


Absolution

by metalhamster



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dusttale, Angst, Dark themes in general, Frisk is a big damn hero, Gen, Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, Suicide, Temporary Character Death, Violence, it gets better eventually, multiple resets, seriously they deserve all the medals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-06-07 12:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15219002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalhamster/pseuds/metalhamster
Summary: In which Sans puts himself through hell - not knowing that there’s someone out there who wants to save him. Even if he deserves hell and more.This fic is based on the Dusttale AU.





	1. Cover

**Author's Note:**

> Dusttale depresses me to no end, and I wrote this fic as a sort of coping mechanism. I hope you enjoy it, or at least draw some comfort from it.
> 
> WARNING: This fic contains depictions of self-harm and suicide (albeit the death is temporary). If you’re disturbed or unsettled by such themes, I advise you to read something else. Also, there’s some swearing in there as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Depictions of self-harm in this chapter.

**You felt your sins crawling on your back.**

*

Sunlight is pouring through the delicate stained glass windows of Judgement Hall, painting the walls and pillars a warm yellow color. One of the few places in the Underground where you can see the open sky. A glimpse of the Aboveground. A tiny shred of hope, shedding light on the golden flowers in the courtyard.

With its peaceful atmosphere and the unspoken promise it held, you used to like this place.

Timeline by timeline, reset by reset, you grew to hate it. When you close your eyesockets, you don’t feel the warmth of the sun on your face, and when you open them, you don’t see the daylight anymore. You only see flashes of a battle fought thousands of times, sharp-tipped bones flying through the air at blinding speed, searing white rays of light blasting everything in their way to molecules. You only feel the weight of your grief and sorrow dragging you down as turns go by, weakening you to the point of wanting to give everything up, until exhaustion finally gets the better of you. Then, a glint of light reflected on metal, a slash across your chest, pain submerging your vision into a world of red and black.

_“i guess that’s it, huh?”_

You hate this place.

Nevertheless, it still beats staying at your old home, surrounded by the remnants of your past lives. At first, you thought that maybe the familiarity of Snowdin would make things a little easier. They say good memories can help you through rough patches, don’t they? Well, this was a rough patch if you’d ever went through one, and if you had an abundance of something, it was memories. They were the only thing you had more than plenty of. You roamed the woods, snapping the odd twig here and there just out of habit, wandered along the cold streets until you couldn’t feel your legs anymore, the only sounds being the snow crunching under your slippers, the wind howling among the deserted houses, unkempt buildings croaking under tons and tons of immovable stone.

It didn’t help.

You stepped into your house and was immediately assaulted by the minuscule details of your shared life with –

_No._

Leaving Snowdin, you carried on to Waterfall, dragging your feet, trying to concentrate on your immediate surroundings. You were considering lying down among the echo flowers to take a nap when you heard their voices repeating the wishes made by –

_No._

You made your way to Hotland, passing by your old, torn-down sentry booth where you had used to sell hot dogs at, and it occurred to you how much you had enjoyed slacking off at two jobs for the extra lunch break it meant, and how it had impressed even –

_No._

You must not think about _him_. You can’t afford it. It’s your last line of defense, and you’re not inclined to give it up any time soon.

So unless you absolutely have to get out – to destroy an errant save point you’ve missed earlier, for example –, you stay here under the giant marble arches, bathed in sunlight but feeling no warmth at all.

It must be around two in the afternoon, just past your usual naptime. It’s amazing how long a monster can go without sleep. Or food. Or company. Or anything, really. It definitely fits your name, now that you think about it.

The silence is deafening. You’d call it maddening, even, if not for the fact that you’ve probably gone mad ages ago. Insanity has its advantages. For starters, it prevents you from feeling remorse. You tell yourself the words, repeating them like a chant, but they have lost their meaning long ago.

_You killed them. You killed them all. Over and over again._

_You killed them._

_You killed them._

_You killed them._

As long as you keep it like this, as long as you keep it meaningless, without emotions, without memories, you’re safe. What from, you don’t know. You’re pretty sure you don’t want to know.

You haven’t seen the talking flower – Flowey was his name, isn’t it? looks like imagination wasn’t his strongest point – in a while now. He’s probably hiding somewhere under the earth where you can’t reach him. Or he’s dead. Maybe the human found him first. Maybe it was you who killed him in this timeline, who knows anymore.

At first, he was amused by your, as he put it, ‘weird’ schtick – intrigued, even. You were sitting at your usual spot in Waterfall, trying to clean the dust off your hands when he decided to pop out of the ground to make faces at you.

“Howdy!” He smiled at you with a mock innocent expression. “Found yourself a new comedy routine, trashbag?”

He was clearly trying to get a rise out of you, but you couldn’t care less at that point. You just looked at him, your expression blank, and thought to yourself, _why not. Extra EXP is always good._

He avoided you the following reset. You still managed to find him a few times, sometimes trying to warn others before you inevitably caught up with them. He even attempted to oppose you in one desperate instance, striking at you with his thorny vines while shouting at Vulkin to run and save themself. Not that he would have stood a chance against you, of course, but you still found it a little touching. In the end though, he just resorted to begging, as expected, pleading for his life, his face strangely familiar for a split second, before you blasted him to bits. You’ve become immune to begging long ago, though it’s rather questionable what ‘long’ means in your unholy mess of an existence.

After a while, you lost count of the timelines. You didn’t bother to keep meticulously arranged notes in your lab anymore, unlike those times when the human had just begun their repeated killing spree. Back then, you had thought that with proper analysis, you could find a rational explanation for all of this, hopefully figuring out a way to stop them. You used to set up charts and spreadsheets, browsing statistics, searching for possible patterns, trying to find some reason in the madness ( _he_ loved to quote that Shakespeare guy, a fact that you used to find endearing until he was murdered for the first time). At first, you figured that trying to prevent them from gaining more EXP might be the solution you needed. You met them well before they could leave Snowdin Forest and fought them right at the door leading to the Ruins, thinking that maybe they would be discouraged from continuing the run. The only result was that after a few more resets, the human became an expert at avoiding your attacks, and you just died a little earlier. You tried to warn the old lady, only to find out that you were late every time. In a desperate attempt to nip it all in the bud, you made a blind jump to the other side of the door and killed them right in front of her. She called you out on it, cursing the day she met you, hurling fire at you with all her might, tears streaming down on her face.

In the end, it was all for nothing. After every attempt, they reset, and it all began again.

No matter how long you ruminated over it, you didn’t understand what they possibly gained from it. Monsters are naturally incapable of feeling hatred, and while it was clear to you that humans were different, you just couldn’t get why anyone, no matter their species, would commit such an unspeakable deed. So after all your attempts to stop them had failed, you did what seemed to be a sensible move at the time and asked them what they hoped to accomplish with all of this. They didn’t give you a straight answer, opting to reply with another question instead while idly playing with the edge of the knife, their voice light and indifferent.

“So, if I let the others live… what will you give me in exchange?”

You accepted their terms without a second thought. You let them decapitate you on their first turn without lifting a finger. They reset. You let them stab you when you offered them a hug. They reset. You killed yourself in front of their eyes, first in spectacular fashion, then simply and efficiently, then slowly and painfully, then again, then again, then again. You died more times than you can remember. And every time, they reset.

Then they moved on from that particular method of torture to another. Namely, you willingly letting them killing others instead.

And you complied. Beyond all the pain and humiliation, you stubbornly insisted that if you just made the ultimate sacrifice, they would stop. You stepped out of their way so they could march directly to Asgore and stick a knife in his back. You listened from the other side of the door as they finished off the old lady in the ruins. You looked away when they tossed Monster Kid off the bridge. Giving in to despair, you even let them kill _him_ , just to end it, just to let it end, just end this, _please just end this_.

You made the mistake of letting them toy with you, holding onto the hope that at some point, they would be satisfied and leave you all in peace. Even when you should have known that all they wanted to do was _play_. So you played along, granting their wishes until you thought they finally ran out of options.

Then they suggested _you_ kill someone else for their entertainment.

You sent them to hell. Stuck a bone through their chest, that is. They looked up at you from where they were kneeling on the ground, blood trickling down the front of their shirt, their smirk bold and cheerful and knowing.

“Did I strike a nerve, comedian?”

You finished them off. After that, you refused to talk to them anymore.

But the idea stayed. No matter how hard you tried to push it out of your mind, it stayed. You would stare at the ceiling in the dead of night, exhausted yet unable to sleep, their words circling in your head.

_If only I had more EXP –_

You would toss and turn, trying to find a plausible argument that would justify even thinking about such a thing.

_It will be for the greater good._

You were not sure you would be able to do it. You sure as hell didn’t _want_ to do it.

...Did you?

_It’s worth a try._

You closed your eyesockets and let out a chuckle, dark and bitter and devoid of hope.

_It’s not like they would live anyway._

*

You started with Asgore. He was the only one to give at least some semblance of a fair fight, and you could count on him knowing about the resets. You don’t know what you hoped to accomplish with it - some sort of understanding, perhaps? You visited them in the garden, which, aside from being his favorite place, was fairly secluded. You didn’t bother with sportsmanship, it was never your style anyway. You just raised your hand and sent a bone through his back while they were busy watering the flowers.

You heard the sickening crunch and his painful cry as he whirled around with a speed you wouldn’t have expected of someone with his stature, his trident materializing in his giant paw. His face must have been fallen from shock when he saw you standing there, but you didn’t see any of it. You couldn’t look him in the face.

“...Sans??”

“i’m sorry.”

“Sans, are you hurt? What are you doing?”

“something that must be done.”

He stayed silent for a long time, his breathing heavy and ragged from his wound. When he spoke again, his tone was stern and sombre.

“Is this about the resets that you told me about?”

“in a manner of speaking.”

“I see. The human, right?”

“yeah. namely, they keep on killing everyone. not that it would matter to any of you as you forget it every time it happens. so, y’know. it’s just me.”

“I know it must be hard for you, Sans, but I must ask you to stop right now. If all of us just sit down and be reasonable, I’m sure we can talk it out.”

You resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the absurdity of that statement. Instead, you concentrated on your mantra that you’d been so busy practicing the previous night.

“i’m sorry, asgore. it must be done. it must.”

“Stop before you do something irreversible, Sans.”

“it’s better that i do it than them, so just finish your turn already.”

“I can’t command you –”

“you’re right about that.”

“– but I know what it’s like to be in pain. I know what it feels like to kill someone, and I don’t want you to go through anything like it. Please just look at me.”

He knew nothing. Of course he knew nothing. Of course he would want to protect you from yourself, even when you set out to kill him, the well-meaning, soft-hearted pushover he was.

So you kept your eyes to the ground and concentrated on the fight, pushing his words out of your mind. It wasn’t an easy battle by any means, even if he refused to hurt you (and hey, you definitely deserved a break after all the times the human made you dodge like you’ve never dodged before). Even with karma working for you, it was quite the struggle to deplete his HP to the point where he was visibly weakened, becoming more vulnerable to your attacks. You didn’t hate him, and hate is the most effective weapon when it comes to killing monsters. But eventually, you managed to get the upper hand, and in your next turn, you striked him down for good.

Time stopped as you snapped your head up involuntarily, your hand barely finished with its movement, the two of you encased in a moment of glass for a small eternity as you stared each other in the eyes. Then the moment passed, and Asgore collapsed to the ground, his immense frame crushing the golden flowers underneath him. He didn’t say anything, just let out a deep, mournful sigh before turning into a handful of dust in front of your eyesockets.

_You did this._

It hit you like a blast to the face.

_You did this._

Your first thought was to escape. You teleported to the secret grotto in Waterfall to hide among the echo flowers. The quiet rush of the water did nothing to stop the voices in your head. They screamed at you, calling you out, judging you, accusing you while you were lying curled up into a ball on the ground, your breath quick and shaky and uneven, _you killed him, you killed him, you FUCKING KILLED HIM, YOU MURDERER._

You stayed there for a long time, your face buried in your palms, your teeth chattering from the chill that grabbed your soul, whimpering half-intelligible apologies into empty air. The echo flowers picked up your voice, throwing it back and forth between the cave walls.

_“I’m sorry –”_

_“Forgive me –”_

_“I’m sorry –”_

_„I’m sorry –”_

But like everything else, this too passed with time. After a while, you managed to pull yourself out of it. You felt a little stronger than before, probably thanks to the extra levels you gained. You decided to take a leaf from Asgore’s book and have a pep talk with yourself, trying to be reasonable.

_Sometimes, sacrifices must be made. You did it so you can save everyone else._

_It will be easier this time._

You met the human in Snowdin forest, as usual, having given up on your promise long ago. They could sense immediately that something had changed. They saw your stats, saw your LOVE, and knew. They recognized the aura of death that surrounded both of you. Takes one to know one, the thought flew through your mind. They even thanked you for your decision to spice the fight up a little, their face breaking into a wide, excited smile. They finally made you kill another monster. They won.

The fight was indeed easier this time. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. Soon enough, you were dead again.

So you took a deep breath and gritted your teeth and kept on following the path you had carved for yourself.

_Just one more will be enough._

One more, always just one more. They all tried to stop you, and they all fell. Undyne, the heroine in shining armor (she laughed in your face as her body melted away in agony). Mettaton, the idol of the entire Underground (a true showman till the end, pulling a dramatic monologue before you cut him short). Alphys, your only remaining partner-in-science (she put up one hell of a fight - you hadn’t thought she was capable of anything like it). The old lady, whose name you never got to know ( _“You really are no different than them”_ , she choked out, her smile as crooked and demented as yours). And others, countless others, strangers and friends, young and old. They all fell before you.

And after a while, it did indeed get easier. In every sense of the phrase, heh heh. Much easier, as you gained more and more levels, growing stronger with every death you caused. You could feel yourself changing, becoming more agile and tough than you could ever had imagined, becoming the greatest warrior the Underground had ever known. The sensation was almost physical, magic coursing your bones like living currents of electricity, bleeding into the marrow, pervading every inch of your body. It was intoxicating.

It felt _good_.

You _enjoyed it._

And at that moment, you understood. You understood why they did it over and over again.

You tried to push the thought down, of course, as you finally set out to finish the job, efficient and collected as always. You tore your way through the Underground, seeking out the remaining monsters, your left eye burning a vivid purple, spreading madness and despair and death around wherever you went, not stopping until nothing remained but dust, nothing but dust, dust everywhere, swirling in the air, sprinkling from above like snowflakes, gathering in soft gray piles on the ground, stirred up into tiny clouds by your footsteps, getting in your sockets, covering your slippers, your hoodie, your face, your hands, marking you.

You were more powerful than ever.

And, for the first time in an eternity, when you finally confronted them, you won.

You won.

It didn’t last long, of course. After the initial pang of relief (from your side) and surprise (from theirs), they reset, sending you back to square one. You had to do it all over again, which wasn’t nearly as difficult and satisfying as the first time, but you still managed to swipe the whole Underground clean before they set out, getting an upper hand on them. Stealing their EXP, they said later with a mock hurt expression, their deep red eyes full of mirth. They didn’t mind it at all. You suspect everything was worth to them just to see they finally broke you.

But then you defeated them again, and when they returned, they weren’t so happy about it anymore. And then you killed them again. And again. And again. You could see the rage in their eyes as they gave you everything they had in an attempt to deplete your HP. You could see their young face contort in frustration as they tried to figure out your new attack patterns. But they couldn’t dodge forever. Reset after reset after reset, you defeated them every time.

And then they didn’t come back.

You could barely believe it at first. You were sure it was just a dream that you’d be awakened from at any moment. The silence was unnatural and disquieting as you paced back and forth along the corridor, waiting for the inevitable stutter in time.

But the stutter never came. Hours passed, and daylight gave way to darkness. You lay down to sleep, right there on the cold stone floor. You woke the next day, silence greeting you as an old friend.

They weren’t here. They still didn’t reset.

So you did the only thing you could and waited. Through days and nights, you waited, playing guessing games in your head. What were they doing, being so late? Were they planning something new? Were they working on a foolproof strategy to finally defeat you? Questions with no answers buzzed around your skull while you were very carefully avoiding asking yourself some other, probably much more important, ones.

_What are you waiting for?_

_What are you looking forward to?_

You don’t know how much time has passed since then. You’re starting to miss them. You’re missing the excitement, the adrenaline rush, the ever-present sense of danger that surrounded them, the triumphant feeling of still being stronger than them, dodging, springing, attacking, making quips about how they apparently have a _bone_ to pick with you, and offer to read them their _badtime_ story (you’re too numb to laugh at your puns anymore).

You miss it.

You get up and check, then double-check the save point in the front of the corridor that you left out for them. It’s still there. Then why didn’t they reset already? Did they want to start again from the beginning?

Not that it would matter that much. You’re pretty sure you can do the job again without any particular effort from your side. No biggie, there.

You lean against a pillar and rub your face tiredly. You’ve been waiting for ages now. Ages? You don’t really know. Time warps and twists in your head like a rubber band, lifetimes flying by in seconds and seconds stretching out to an eternity. And the silence, the silence just amplifies it by tenfold. Are you still even alive?

_Please –_

_Heh._

You stop yourself before you can continue that train of thought because if there’s one place you shouldn’t go, it’s there. You won. Everything is all right. They won’t reset again. The world is saved. No more battles. And this is what you wanted, right?

Right?

You desperately keep on listening to any stray noise that might signal the presence of someone else. The only sound around is your breathing, quiet and heavy.

_This is what I wanted._

_Everything is as it should be._

You sit down, staring at your battle-worn hands that have killed them so many times. You look up to take a glimpse at the end of the corridor. It’s empty. No-one is here but you.

_It’s all right._

_Everyhing is fine._

_IT’S FINE –_

You hunch over, bowing your head, closing your sockets, your hands curling into fists, your mouth moving without making a sound.

_Please._

_Please come back._

_I don’t want to be left alone._

_Because that would mean I did this all for nothing._

_Because that would mean I am the one to blame._

_PLEASE_

Flecks of dust on your hood, as gray and dead as ash from a fire that went out long ago.

Silence.

You can’t laugh. You can’t cry. You can’t even scream. You feel nothing.

_NOTHING_

You lie down on the floor and stare at the cracked ceiling for a long time, your sockets empty. Then you lift a hand and drag a bony fingertip across your forehead, pressing down hard. Slowly, measuredly, you start to scratch a pattern into the smooth surface as deep as you can. Then you start another, and then another. You pick at the edges of your eyesockets, tracing them, rubbing them until they ache from the friction. Then you roll up a sleeve and move to your right ulna and radius, squeezing them tightly together, hitting them, scratching them, clawing at the bone harder and harder until you draw marrow.

The pain offers some small relief, at least for a while. Then everything

_NOTHING_

starts again. You take in a sharp gulp of air and push yourself up on all fours. You take a deep breath and smash your skull into the floor with all your strength. A sickening crack echoes through your head and your whole world sways wildly, your vision filled with stars of silver and red dancing, swirling in nonsenical patterns, one by one disappearing into a dark mist as you finally collapse to the floor like a ragdoll, slipping into unconsciousness.

Looks like escaping into insanity could only help so much.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay - life, as usual, stepped in the way and kept me busy. In any case, enjoy the second chapter!

You wake up. Or rather, you find yourself awake and sitting on the floor, not remembering how you got here. A few seconds pass, your scattered senses gradually getting used to your surroundings, before you become aware of the footsteps.

They are getting louder and louder. Someone is approaching.

At first, you’re sure you’re hallucinating, or that it’s just a rare comforting dream (the ones you usually have these days all feature _him_ , looking at you with pain and hatred in his eyesockets, his grin corrupted into something wicked, mocking you, accusing you). You just hit your head a little too hard earlier. It can’t be true.

But then you look around and realize that the hall is whole and unscathed once again, no signs of your previous battle to be seen. Your wounds have also disappeared.

They reset.

And they are here.

When you indeed catch a glimpse of the tiny figure at the end of the hallway, your breath hitches and your grin widens. Your eyes spring ablaze, red and purple burning in your sockets, lively and impatient and hungry. After a failed attempt (your legs feel somewhat shaky, perhaps from the excitement, perhaps from hunger), you manage to stand up, feeling more alive than ever in a very long time.

_Finally._

Their stats are still at LV 1, which means they must have used the save point at the end of the hallway. Good. They are still weak. They are still way beneath you. Your repeated murder sprees were good for something after all, heh heh.

They are approaching at a somewhat faster pace at first, but when they get close enough to see your expression clearly, they stop abruptly, keeping a good distance. So they’ve become wary, huh. That’s a nice change of pace, somewhat. You’re staring them in the face, grin as wide as ever, drawing deep, shaky breaths, magic crackling in your bones, your left hand readied in your pocket. You’re itching to start the battle already, but you’re waiting for them to speak first. You’re a little curious about them being late, to be honest. But why be honest when you can pretend? It’s not like they don’t see through your every word anyway. It became a sort of game between you two lately.

Let’s play, then.

“heya.”

Your gaze wanders to their hands, involuntarily searching for the weapon that has murdered you so many times. You find nothing, and for a moment, you can’t shake the uneasy feeling that something’s different. Well, more different than usual.

“just you and your fists this time, huh? how _knife_ of you.”

They remain silent, their expression uncertain. For a few seconds, neither of you makes a move, gauging each other’s reactions instead. Finally, you shrug and decide to carry on with your one-sided conversation.

“what, not even a chuckle? whazzup, buddy? _catty_ got your tongue?”

They open their mouth like they are about to say something, but in the end, they just shake their head timidly. Then, after a moment of silence, they take a small step forward. You stay where you are, alert for any sudden movement. Still curious about their intentions, you decide to give up your turn just for fun. It’s not like they’d stand a chance anyway.

They slowly, hesitantly extend their tiny hands to you, arms trembling.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

_Frisk -_

You get startled for a second before you figure out their intentions. Heh. Clever. Or not, considering that this is exactly how you managed to kill them a few times. Them and some friends who trusted you enough to lower their guards for a second. And a second was enough for you. Right, Grillbz?

Isn’t friendship great?

You emit an emotionless chuckle before you blast them into oblivion. They don’t even try to dodge, as if they were trying to leave themselves open and vulnerable. You quirk an eyebrow at that, but quickly decide that it must have been some trick. You’ve learned long ago that they are as good at deception as you are. Or they just wanted some variety. Truth be told, it’s a little overdue at this point, all things considered.

They come back shortly thereafter. That’s the spirit. Now you can maybe get some action instead of a pantomime.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

After you give up your turn, again, they refuse to attack. Again. They just offer you their arms, reaching out to you.

“what, you want a hug or something? sure, why not.”

You open your arms and flash them a wide, uneven grin, the corners of your mouth reaching the edges of your eyesockets.

“c’mere, buddy. don’t leave me hangin’”.

They hesitate a little, which you find pretty funny. It’s not like they don’t know what to expect at this point. Then they step forward.

The hug they give you is bold and tight; in fact, they practically throw themselves at you. Their arms are still shaking a little but they hold on nevertheless. They hold on like they would never want to let you go. They don’t even flinch when your left eye flashes for a moment. They are holding on to you firmly even with the sharp, pointy bones sticking out of their back. Then they squeeze your hands weakly before sliding down to the floor, blood pooling from under their lifeless body.

Looking down at the tiny form, you frown and scratch your cheekbone in mild confusion. What the hell was that about? Are they seeking out new and exciting ways to die? A commendable goal, no question about that, but you wouldn’t have thought that they’d resort to that so soon.

Well, you can ask them in any case. Not a minute passes by, and they come back.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

Again with the embrace. Persistent, aren’t they? Too bad you too have patience to _spare_ , heh heh. You lean against a pillar and casually summon a blaster.

“wanna see a magic trick?”

You snap your fingers and before they can dodge, they are caught in the deadly white ray. It knocks them back on the hard stone floor before scorching their body into ashes. It’s almost like dust, the thought occurs to you.

“oops. looks like someone dropped dead from awe. rest in _pieces_ , kid.”

Your good mood is somewhat ruined by the fact that you’re the only one around to appreciate the pun. Oh well. Maybe next time. Quite literally, you have all the time in the world.

Soon enough, they’re back again.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

You used to flatter yourself that you can read people pretty well, but this time, you can’t for the life of you figure out their twisted little game. You take a step toward them, leaning forward, your hood casting a shadow over your eyesockets.

„what, is this your idea of a mad time? c’mon, you can do better than this. we both can do better than this.”

You raise your hand, and a wall of bones shoots up from the floor, forcing them to leap forward. They lose their balance on the smooth marble floor, tripping and falling down on their knees at your feet. You give them a hard kick in the side before you finish your turn. They wince, but they don’t move away. They look up at you, their expression deceptively shy and gentle. Then they reach up, extending a hand to you. For a split second, the movement looks unnervingly familiar, but the feeling quickly passes.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

You don’t understand.

So you kill them again.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

And again.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

And again.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

You feel frustration building up in you. Your voice deepens, dropping to a menacing growl.

“come on, pal. enough of this. come on and fight.”

They don’t seem to be receptive to your suggestion, offering you an embrace instead. You step closer, reaching out with a hand - then with one swift motion, grab their arm and twist it roughly behind their back. They cry out in pain, a helpless, broken noise, but they still don’t make any move.

“i must say, your manners are quite _disarming_ -”

You tighten your grip, your grin widening.

“- but looks like it’s time to take matters into my own _hands_.”

Pushing their wrist above their head, you hear the cracking of bone as their shirt is getting torn at the seams. Your eyes flare up at the sound. Your voice sounds cool and calm, but you can barely contain the seething anger that’s burning you up from the inside.

“come on, kiddo.”

Tears are flowing down their cheeks, blood is trickling down their wrist, their entire body is shaking, but they still refuse to fight. They refuse. You lean closer and hiss sharply in their ear.

“C o m e  o n ,  y o u  f u c k i n g  b r a t .”

They refuse.

Well, if they insist. They certainly won’t refuse after the hundredth time. You throw them on the floor and send a bone through their neck for good measure. They stop moving, lying face down in front of you, and you’re alone again. Blood is flowing across the marble tiles until it reaches your slippers, fouling the faded pink color. Then it suddenly disappears -

***Frisk is sparing you.**

Before you can stop yourself, you’re already yelling. They can’t do this to you. They can’t.

“What is your problem? Are you deaf, kid? Fight! I said fight! FIGHT!”

They can’t do this, they can’t, after everything you’ve done, they can’t. And you’ll make them understand. Even if it means killing them one million times.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

One million times.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

One. Million. Times.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

_ONE. MILLION -_

***Frisk is sparing you.**

Gritting your teeth, you grab their soul and fling it across the hallway, slamming them into the walls, the floor, the ceiling, again and again, and again, _and again_ , with all your strength and anger and fury, throwing their disgusting, dumb little pacifist ass left and right, up and down, until they are nothing more than a small, trembling bundle, fragile and insignificant.

They stay prone on the floor. You’d swear you hear soft, muffled sniffling from their direction. Good. You make no further move, waiting for them to finally do something, your breath ragged and heavy from the exertion, and you realize your entire body is trembling.

Then they slowly, shakily stand up, their knees weak from pain and exhaustion. They turn to you, staggering, their limbs hanging heavily at their sides, look you in the eyes, and offer their arms.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

You raise your hand, fully intent on crushing their soul into red dust, to kill them again, over and over again, until they are half-mad from the humiliation and despair, until you make them feel as you feel, until they _finally_ have enough, to teach the stupid brat a lesson -

\- and stop.

With their silent plea and infinite patience, they remind you of -

_No._

***Frisk is sparing you.**

\- someone -

 _Please no, I can’t think about_ him _, I can’t -_

***Frisk is sparing you.**

\- who understood everything -

_PLEASE, I DON’T WANT TO -_

***Frisk is sparing you.**

\- even when he understood nothing.

Someone who never stopped believing in you.

Even when you murdered him in cold blood.

Even when you showed him no mercy.

_“I believe in you, brother.”_

Your last stand crumbles.

_Papyrus._

_Papyrus._

_You dirty brother-killer._

You lower your hand.

_He was so trusting._

_So loving._

_So helpless._

Your grin wavers for a second, then returns tenfold as the hilarity of the situation catches up with you. Slowly, involuntarily, you start to chuckle, unable to control yourself.

_He was so, so very easy to kill._

_Almost forgettable._

_Isn’t it funny?_

A shudder courses through you, and, still giggling to yourself, you fall on your elbows, the harsh clack of bone on marble echoing through the hallway. Your head is on the floor once again, and you’re choking, whimpering with laughter, drawing in short gulps of air, tears trickling down your face, your breath catching in your throat until you feel exhausted without having moved a muscle (you still got it, don’t you, comedian?), and you can’t stop, you still can’t stop laughing, it’s just too much. You collapse on the floor, desperately rubbing your forehead as if it would help chasing away the memories, your entire body shaking until you’re howling with laughter.

_I killed him._

_I killed the monster I loved most in the world._

_And I didn’t feel anything._

_Isn’t it hilarious?_

You bury your face in your palms, grasping at your hood, clawing at the edge of your sockets, curling into a ball to stay safe, to keep it all out, and then the voice tears through the air, and it can’t be yours, it just can’t be, this scream cannot possibly emanate from you. It’s deranged and inhuman, the voice of an animal in pain, wounded and agonizing and unable to die. The howling echoes off the walls of Judgement Hall, the voice not being yours anymore, crying out apologies, calling out to loved ones long dead, murdered by your hands. It repeats over and over again like the empty voice of an echo flower, mindlessly, fruitlessly, becoming weaker and weaker until nothing remains but choked sobs.

Your sobs.

_I killed him._

As if through a thick haze, you more feel than hear the kid step close and kneel beside you, their small hands stopping millimeters from your shoulder. You send a blast at them, reflexively. They barely dodge it, tripping over their own feet in the process.

Is that what they wanted? To see you wail on the floor, way past the point of feeling anything but the overwhelming, mind-numbing desire to just end it all?

“G o   a w a y .”

Your voice is so hoarse, it doesn’t even sound like you anymore.

***Frisk is sparing you.**

They can’t.

You don’t deserve it.

“G o  a w a y  o r  I ’ l l  k i l l  y o u  a g a i n .”

You’re lying. You’re in no condition to attack them, and even if you were, you can’t do this anymore, you can’t, you just can’t -

“What do you want? Play? Fight? Do it all over again? What?! Open your damn mouth and tell me! Tell me! Just tell me what the FUCK YOU WANT FROM ME!”

***Frisk is sparing you.**

Your voice cracks in your throat, crumbling into a broken whisper.

“Please… please just kill me already and be done with it. Please just end this. Please.”

_All that remains is dust._

“...I beg you.”

***Frisk is sparing you.**

Silence.

They are stroking your shoulder.

It has been so long since you felt the touch of another living being.

You let your eyesockets fall closed as your body goes limp. Slowly, slowly, your breathing returns to normal. Slowly, the fog of pain and madness clears up, and nothing remains but the soft waves of emptiness rolling in your mind, washing over everything. You feel so exhausted you’re sure you could fall asleep right here, right now. You want nothing more than to finally lose yourself in the darkness and never wake up again.

You can’t.

There are still some things that must be finished.

You open your eyes. The kid’s still here, kneeling beside you.

“Sans…”

The small, soft voice is familiar.

Lifetimes and lifetimes ago.

A child standing before you, timid and self-conscious, with a toy knife in their hand and tears in their eyes, their head bowed low, thinking about what they had done. Crying tears of remorse about the souls they had destroyed and promising to do better when they come back. Promising to never raise a hand against a monster ever again.

The same child, hidden deep behind red eyes and a wicked smile, but still in there somewhere, you could feel it. You called out to them, pleading them to stop, to leave and never come back. And they complied. They forced themselves to walk into your deathly embrace and let themselves be killed to save what remained of your world.

And now, once more, they refuse to raise their hand against you. Despite you having done everything to provoke them into fight. Despite you killing them who knows how many times. Despite you not deserving any, they chose to have mercy on you.

You realize you’re still lying on the floor, in a rather undignified position. Not that you’d care about dignity nowadays (or ever, for that matter), but it’s still not ideal for having a conversation. Which is something that probably should be done, and preferably sooner than later. You take a deep breath and pull yourself together mentally as much as you can, given the circumstances. You sit up, wiping away the tears you didn’t realize you shed. Turning to them, you leave your hood pulled down nevertheless because there’s no way you can look them in the face.

“you aren’t… them, are you?”

They shake their head.

“Sans…” Their voice trails off uncertainly. “Do you remember me?”

It was so, so long ago, you still aren’t convinced it wasn’t all just a dream. After all, everything that used to remain from your previous lifetimes were faint memories disguised as dreams, lending your entire existence a fleeting and uncertain quality. But the kid is still here, solid and alive, not turning into dust, not going anywhere.

“...yes.”

You fix your gaze on a geometric pattern running along a marble pillar across from you, just to have something to anchor you in place.

“frisk, right?”

You see them nodding from the corner of your sockets. In the next moment, the same soft, small sounds begin again, and you realize they are weeping.

“I’m sorry, Sans… I’m s-so sorry… I didn’t want any of this to h-happen… I’m sorry...”

You should probably comfort them; after all, who leaves a small child to cry? Only a monster, heh heh. But you can muster neither the energy nor the goodwill to do it. Who knows what they did to end up in this hell of a timeline. And the bigger part of you is still too numb to care. You have seen many, many tears shed, all of them in vain. Why would these be any different?

“okay”, you say finally, when they’ve calmed down a little. “clearly, something has changed.” And who knows if it’s for the better, you muse as you let out an exhausted sigh through your nosehole. “care to explain?”

They nod again. Looks like talking is not their strong point when it comes to heavy stuff. Moving into a more comfortable position, you put your hands into your lap and wait for them to speak. They wipe their face with their sleeve and take a deep breath.

“You know Chara, right?”

“you’re talking about your flatmate, i suppose. striped shirt, red eyes, crazy smirk, right?”

“Yes. Though… they aren’t exactly here now. Not as they were… in the previous runs.”

Well, that’s one way to put the repeated massacring of everyone you knew and loved. Frisk catches a glimpse of your expression, and quickly carries on.

“But they are still with me. Th-they’ve always been with me, from the first moment I woke up here. I felt their presence even when they weren’t talking to me.”

“they were talking to you?”

“Yes. We could talk a little… I mean, when they wanted to. Otherwise, they were just… there. Somewhere inside me. I could feel their anger, or their joy, or their fear… but I could never understand what they thought.”

“okay. so this chara fellow chose to move in with you, somehow, and didn’t let you go. what about it?”

Frisk swipes a stray lock of hair out of their eyes and looks up hesitantly.

“When - when I first fell down, I was so confused and scared - monsters were said to be ruthless and bloodthirsty. I know now that’s not true. I learned that in the end, but… at first, I was afraid. I was afraid I’ll never get out of there. And Toriel said I had to be strong to survive, and that if you defeated me you’d bring my soul to Asgore, and, and... I… I killed her. I killed Toriel. And Aaron, and… and others.”

You nod without feeling particularly upset about their confession. You killed them, too, after all, although the first name doesn’t ring a bell.

“when you first arrived here, you promised me not to kill anyone in the next reset“, you remind them. “what happened?”

“I did want to keep my promise. But Chara wasn’t happy about that. They didn’t regret killing anyone. They... enjoyed it.”

You let out a snort.

“tell me something i don’t know, kid.” No sooner than saying it, your grin twists into something painful. _You yourself are not entirely new to the joy of killing, are you?_

Frisk pretends they didn’t see your expression change, and continues.

“I tried to talk them out of it, but they didn’t want to do anything with it. And I - I realized I couldn’t resist them as much as before. They had become stronger.” The kid falls silent for a second, then swallows hard, their hands curling into fists as if they were trying to steel themself. “So I… I thought that maybe if they were shown that violence wasn’t going to work, that things won’t change, then we can start again...”

Ah. Broken promises. A rather familiar subject, isn’t it? You turn your head to look at them, your face expressionless, a dull ache pulsing in your soul. Of course they didn’t get to keep their word. Of course they chose to go against everyhing they said. Empty words. They were just empty words.

“But it never happened.” Frisk bows their head, their voice becoming even smaller. “Things did change. Chara became more powerful with every monster we struck down, and after a while, I found out I couldn’t restrain them anymore. And - and in the end... I couldn’t even control my body.”

They turn away from you, their voice dropping to a mere whisper.

“And… that was when - when the g-genocide runs began.”

“i see.”

For a long while, neither of you says a word. You can’t even disentangle what you’re feeling right now. Hope? No. You’re far beyond any hope by now. Well, you got an explanation, if that’s any comfort. (It’s not.) But Frisk finally raises their head, looking at you as if they were trying to suggest something. Something that won’t help at all. Something that still must be done.

They have always been determined, after all.

“so... after all of this - what happened? why are you here?”

“Because they let me. They’re tired. And... bored. They are bored with - with killing everyone. Especially now that… now that -”

“now that i’ve taken their job, yeah.” Frisk gasps at that, and you let out a chuckle, the sound dark and bitter. “don’t pretend i’m innocent, kid. and don’t even think about coming at me with that bullshit about how even the worst person can change, how everyone deserves a second chance, yadda yadda. just spit out what you want, and let it be done with.”

“O-okay. So, um - Chara and I made a deal.” You raise a bony eyebrow at that. “They give me my body back for one more run. If I can show them that… that having mercy and befriending everyone can feel as good as - as... killing everyone, then they leave us alone and won’t come back again.”

You let out an incredulous snort at that, your voice laced with exhaustion and sorrow. In the end, it’s all about this, isn’t it? Amusement. They get bored, they decide to murder everyone. They get bored, they decide to befriend everyone. It’s all the same to them.

“just give up, kid. save yourself the disappointment. and more importantly, save me the extra effort, if possible.”

“No!”, they cry out, their voice desperate and pleading. “I can’t give up now, Sans! I just got a second chance to make everything right! This is _my_ second chance! But you must help me! Please...”

Their voice trails off, but their eyes are begging. You’re staring at the floor, weighing your options.

Not that there are many of them. You are nothing but their toy, taken out when they want to play, put away when they get bored. You look up at the kid and sigh.

“so. what’s your plan?”

“I’ll reset. And I’ll go through with the run without hurting anyone. I’ll make it all right. But you - you must stop… you must stop -”

“and let the two of you do it instead? nice try, buddy.”

Frisk winces at the harshness of your voice, and no sooner than you utter the words, you want to take them back. Your reply was a knee-jerk reaction, and you know it. In spite of your bitterness, you can’t deny how hollow your statement sounds. You, them, what’s the difference anymore?

You’re so, so tired. So tired of this all. You just want to lie down and sleep forever. You shrug your shoulders.

“hey, what do i care? it’s not like i can do anything about your decisions.”

“Thank you”, Frisk says solemnly. “It will be different this time.”

You don’t believe a word of it.

“sure it will.”

You get up and turn to look out one of the windows, signaling the end of the conversation.

„see ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my Frisk voice is not total crap. :/ I always imagined them as somewhat of a shy, reserved kid, not speaking unless they absolutely have to, and in a situation like this, I’d imagine they’d be scared out of their mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this instead of working on my book review. I regret nothing.
> 
> WARNING: Depictions of suicide in this chapter. (The death is temporary.)

You wake up in your room, staring at the ceiling from the questionable comfort of your worn-down mattress. The first light of the fabricated underground dawn is just barely visible above the rooftops.

_They reset again._

You jolt up, tiny beads of sweat already gathering on your skull. You don’t have time to sleep. You don’t have time to think. You must set out to do the job before they -

Then you remember.

_Frisk._

_...They reset again._

You fall back down on the mattress and take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. You can barely believe the events of the last reset weren’t just a dream cooked up by your delusional mind that wanted nothing more than to end the nightmare. But your dreams, no matter how horrifying, usually turn out to be true.

You close your eyesockets and try to concentrate on your immediate surroundings to stifle your nervous alertness that pervades your entire body, your doubts that buzz around in your head. You feel strangely empty that for once, you don’t have to race against the clock, don’t have to mentally build a plan for how to sweep the Underground clean the most effectively. You wonder if that Chara kid is indeed going to let Frisk do things their own way this time. You wonder whether you will meet them tomorrow only to see dust on their hands once again.

Probably.

Well, if they ultimately decide that they are still bored, you can just go through with it again.

Through your closed door, you can make out the muffled sounds of Papyrus preparing breakfast, pots and pans clanking together. You stay there for who knows how long, eyesockets closed, lying motionless and thoughtless until he knocks on the door to alert you that breakfast is ready, and really, you should be up by now, lazybones. Hearing his voice sends a chill down your spine as you realize that the first thought to spring to your mind was how easy a target he would be. How cost-effective it would be to gain five levels for a single kill. Your soul feels cold and dead in your ribcage.

You’re not sure if you can bear this for long.

You’re going through the motions, dragging yourself out of your room, your grin a mask, your pupils (a clear white this time, how unusual) barely visible in your sockets. Papyrus notices it, of course, he always notices when something’s wrong. You can see the worry written all over his face, but for once, he says nothing.

Good.

An eerie feeling of displacement starts to creep upon you as you step out of the house. Your hoodie is clean and spotless. Snowdin is brimming with life, residents going about their business, chatting it up, greeting the two of you, waving at you. Monster Kid is standing under the Gryftmas tree, awing at the presents wrapped in colorful paper (you watched him getting tossed off the bridge before Undyne could have intervened). The librarbian is fumbling with his keys as he closes the door to his home (you remember catching a glimpse of his glasses lying there in the pile of dust on your way out). Grillby passes by on his way to work, nodding wordlessly in your direction (he was still trying to calm you down, talking to you in a low, soothing voice, when you summoned a blaster to finish him off).

You’d be able to destroy every single one of them with little to no effort by now. The thought is oddly comforting. It almost feels like home, a solid foundation of your identity that you can always return to. For a moment, you are back in control. You have nothing to fear anymore. Nobody can harm you. You are stronger than them. Stronger than any of them.

But they are still here, knowing nothing, remembering nothing, mocking you with their mere existence, and suddenly, it’s just too much. Your breath quickens, and you can’t suppress a shudder as you take in all the sights and sounds and smells surrounding you, overwhelming your senses. This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

_They shouldn’t be here._

_They shouldn’t be alive._

_Why are they alive?_

_I must -_

Your breath hitches and you stagger, feeling nauseous, the world reeling violently around you.

_I must -_

“...BROTHER?”

_The streets are silent and the trees rotting and the houses abandoned._

_I killed them all._

You close your eyesockets and let yourself fall, fall down someplace cold and deep and dark.

“...?!”

_Dust, dust everywhere. Wind howling in the empty caverns._

_It is all that remains._

“...!!”

“...huh?”

You look up and realize Papyrus has been calling your name for a while now. He’s hunched over beside you, holding your frame up with one arm, making sure you can lean on his shoulder for support. A few passersby have stopped on their way and are now looking at you with concern.

“SANS! ARE YOU OKAY?”

“‘m fine”, you manage to mumble weakly. Papyrus is having none of it, of course.

“I TOLD YOU YOU SHOULD HAVE EATEN AT LEAST A LITTLE OF MY NUTRITIOUS SPAGHETTI FOR BREAKFAST! NO WONDER YOU CAN BARELY WALK!”

You inhale deeply and blink a few times, trying to clear your head.

“it’s okay, paps. i, uh - i just stubbed my toe and it hurt a lot.”

“OH? THEN LET ME CHECK! YOU SHOULDN’T GO TO WORK WITH AN INJURED FOOT!”

“no need for that, bro”, you hurry to reassure him. “it was nothing. it’s much better already. see?” You lift up a slippered foot and wiggle your toes. Papyrus raises a bony eyebrow and gives it a skeptical look.

“WELL… IF YOU SAY SO.”

“heh, i do. _toe_ -tally.”

“ARGH! SANS! NOW I’M THE ONE HURTING!”

“heh heh.”

More or less reassured that you are indeed feeling better, your brother resumes chatting excitedly about Mettaton’s latest TV performance, maybe to fill the silence, maybe because he’s hoping to lift your spirits a little. You shift your grin into a hollow smile, fully aware that he’s not fooled by it. Tuning out the chatter, you briefly recite his stats in your head, just out of habit. HP 680, ATK 20, DEF 20, EXP 200.

Just in case.

You part ways, and you set out to your guard post near the edge of the forest. You trudge through the snow, feeling a chill that has nothing to do with the permanent winter of Snowdin. Head bowed, hands in your pockets, you force yourself to take another step, then another, then another. Left, right, left, right. It’s not even that hard, really. Piece of cake. And hard or not, you must retain some semblance of normalcy. You must.

A sudden gust of wind throws a flurry of snow in your face and you instinctively pull up your hood to keep the dust out.

Oh. Yeah. No dust this time.

Yet.

You stop, finally looking up and taking in your surroundings. You realize that you’ve come as far as the wooden fence that your brother built so, so long ago. You can just make out the gate leading to the ruins in the distance. You stop at the ledge and stare down into the rocky abyss.

You’re feeling more alone than ever. More alone than you felt after killing everyone. You sit down and pick up a small pebble, idly dropping it into the precipice. You don’t hear it hit the ground below.

Of course Papyrus would try to make sense of it all. Maybe he would even forgive you, the merciful fool he is. You briefly consider going back and throwing the whole truth in his face, just to see what happens. Just to get what you deserve: his fear, his contempt, his utter disgust. His disbelief. It would certainly feel better than this. Almost peaceful…

But there’s always the possibility that he forgives you. And you can’t have that, you can’t have that at all.

He can’t ever forgive you.

You lounge around at your post, slumped over the ledge of the wooden booth, staring into space, feeling sluggish and somehow already exhausted, your mind hazy. The kid’s due tomorrow, around this time. The thought of a whole day looming ahead of you fills you with dread.

When your shift finally ends, you don’t even care to teleport over to your hot dog stand. You head home instead, planning to lock yourself in your room and try to get some sleep. Papyrus is already at home, vigorously vacuuming the couch. He greets you with fake enthusiasm and doesn’t attempt to hold you back when you go straight to your bedroom. You throw yourself on your mattress and lie there sleepless, staring at the wall until it’s time for dinner. You mentally prepare yourself for more of your brother’s spaghetti only to find out it’s takeout from Grillby’s instead. You pretend to be pleasantly surprised, but you can’t even stand the smell of it. After such a long time spent starving, the mere thought of food makes your nonexistent stomach turn. You eat a few bites for Papyrus’ sake but you can barely keep it down. He looks disappointed, yet - again - he says nothing.

The usual evening program isn’t any better. You’re slugging on the couch, trying very hard to pretend that you’re immersed in Mettaton’s newest space opera. Papyrus is seated next to you, seemingly giving the show his undivided attention, but you can see from his rigid posture that he’s just as tense as you are. The very second after Mettaton waves everyone goodbye, sending kisses left and right, he turns off the TV. Thankful that the day is finally over, you get up and make a show of stretching your arms sleepily.

“well, this was more than enough excitement for one evening. i’m gonna turn in.” You fake a yawn and make a move toward the stairs. “g’night, pap.”

“SANS.”

Of course he calls after you. Of course he can’t very well leave you alone. Reluctantly, you turn around. Papyrus is still sitting on the couch, staring ahead with a frown on his face. You can barely stifle a sigh. You’re not ready for this.

“what is it, bro? you want a bedtime story? ‘cause i’m kinda -”

“PLEASE STOP.”

“ok”, you say airily, staying on the spot. “this is as good a place for sleeping as any.”

“I MEAN STOP PRETENDING.”

“pretending what?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT, SANS. AND I HAVE THE FEELING THAT YOU’VE BEEN AVOIDING THE SUBJECT ON PURPOSE.”

“you gotta be a little more specif -”

“I’M TALKING ABOUT YOUR BEHAVIOR TODAY! THIS MORNING, YOU LOOKED LIKE DEATH, AND DIDN’T EVEN REACT WHEN I TRIED TO PROVE TO YOU THAT JUNIOR JUMBLE IS HARDER THAN CROSSWORD. YOU HAVEN’T EATEN ANYTHING FOR BREAKFAST, YOU HAVEN’T EATEN LUNCH EITHER, AND WHEN YOU CAME HOME, YOU JUST WENT STRAIGHT TO YOUR ROOM! WHAT ABOUT YOUR SECOND JOB? AND THAT’S NOT COUNTING THIS EVENING. I THOUGHT YOU LIKED SPACE MOVIES, BUT I COULD TELL YOU WERE JUST STARING OUT OF YOUR HEAD. I EVEN BROUGHT YOU A WATER SAUSAGE BURGER! I KNOW IT’S YOUR FAVORITE, GRILLBY TOLD ME SO, AND YET YOU BARELY EVEN TOUCHED IT!”

Listening to his endless tirade makes you even more tired. You want nothing more than to go to your room and crash. You don’t even think of what to reply. Whipping out the same old lie comes easy by now.

“it’s nothing, paps. i’m just tired, that’s all. really.”

Papyrus frowns. Never a good sign.

“NO, YOU’RE MOST DEFINITELY NOT ‘JUST TIRED’. I KNOW YOU’RE HURTING, BROTHER. I KNOW YOU’VE BEEN HURTING FOR A LONG TIME NOW, BUT THIS IS… DIFFERENT.”

His looks at you with searching eyes, his voice heavy with worry, and it irritates you all the more because you know that this time, you won’t be able to placate him with a convenient lie. He’s genuinely concerned about you, and he’s at a point where your usual excuses wouldn’t satisfy him anymore.

“i told you it’s nothing.”

“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU.”

You turn back and head off to the stairs, your voice stern.

“leave me alone, papyrus.”

“NO.”

He springs up and leaps in front of you, blocking the way to the stairs. You look up at him, ready to snap at him to finally get him off your back, and you’re taken aback at how hard his expression is. The words die in your throat.

“DO YOU THINK IT MAKES ME HAPPY THAT I MUST NAG AND KICK YOU CONSTANTLY IN THE BUTT TO EVEN GET YOU OUT OF THE HOUSE AND MAKE YOU ACTUALLY DO YOUR JOB? OR ANYTHING AT ALL, REALLY?” He takes a step toward you, throwing his arms in the air. “DO YOU THINK IT’S EASY FOR ME?”

He turns away for a second, his expression hurt and bitter.

“AND WHENEVER I TRY TO HELP YOU OR AT LEAST MAKE AN ATTEMPT TO EVEN FIND OUT WHAT YOUR PROBLEM IS, YOU JUST SHRUG AND LIE AND SHUT ME OUT LIKE I’M - LIKE I’M SOME IGNORANT BABY BONES! I’M SORRY, BUT… BUT THIS IS UNBECOMING OF YOU!”

For a few seconds, you can’t see anything but his darkened, ghostly form floating beside you, his eyes glowing red with anger and eternal torment.

_“YOU MURDERED ME, SANS.”_

_“I’M SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU.”_

_“YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I HATE YOU.”_

_“I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU.”_

You shake your head and return to the present. Papyrus is standing in front of you, scowling, his arms folded.

“SO NO. I’M NOT LEAVING UNTIL YOU TELL ME EXACTLY WHAT IS GOING ON.”

Screw this.

Your left eye flashes for a moment, teleporting you to your bedroom. As you swiftly lock the door, you hear your brother come running up the stairs, his boots landing heavily on the wooden boards. He tries to turn the doorknob, futilely.

“SANS? SANS, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! ANSWER ME!”

You stay quiet. Maybe he’ll just give up and go to his room. You hear him let out a frustrated huff.

“WELL, YOU’D BETTER COME OUT SOONER OR LATER BECAUSE I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE. I WILL SPEND THE WHOLE NIGHT STANDING HERE IF I MUST!”

_I could kill you. I could kill you any time, and you wouldn’t even fight back. You’d just let me do it, the pathetic weakling you are. You might know the pleasure of battle, but you’ll never know the pleasure of victory. You’ll never know how real power feels._

Your mind comes to a screeching halt, and in a panic, your hands come up to your temples as if they could catch you before you go to places where you don’t want to go again. You shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts. You shouldn’t be thinking like this about Papyrus of all people. You can’t lose him. You can’t lose his love. Your love. You can’t lose the only anchor still keeping you in place. You should go out and apologize.

_Heh._

_So you’re still sticking to the same old lie, aren’t you?_

_You know you can’t lose something you’ve already lost._

You look at the door and shrug.

_To hell with it all._

It’s not like you deserve him anymore.

You unlock the door and step out to the landing. Papyrus is planted in front of the door, trying to adopt an intimidating pose, with little success.

“so. you want to know what’s going on, huh?”

Papyrus doesn’t say a word, just gives you a curt nod.

“alright. i’ll tell you.”

Hands shoved in your pockets, your left eye flares up slowly, cyan magic glowing in your socket, your grin curling into a predatory smile. You take a small step toward your brother. He involuntarily takes a step back, and you can tell that he was genuinely scared for a split second there. Bile rises in your throat, mixed with the heady feeling of triumph.

_He’s afraid. He doesn’t know why, but deep in the darkest recesses of his soul, he remembers._

You take another step, and this time, Papyrus steels himself and stays in place. You lean close toward him, your grin cruel and mocking, your voice cold.

“nothing.”

_NOTHING -_

“nothing is going on. nothing that your dumb little brain could ever understand, because you always forget everything anyway, and then wake up in the next morning none the wiser. you can’t understand how i feel because you’re simply too damn stupid to remember. so count your blessings, pal, and do me a favor and drop it. go and play with your puzzles, or hunt for humans who never come, or daydream about how you will make it to the royal guard some day. not that it would do any good ever, because it doesn’t fucking matter. none of it matters.”

Papyrus’ eyesockets widen, and he opens his mouth, unable to even form words. The look he gives you -

_\- he refused to fight you -_

“and you know why?” Your grin widens even more, until it doesn’t even resemble a smile anymore. “because no matter what bullshit asgore has been feeding us, truth is, we’re stuck here. forever. we’re never gonna make it to the surface. never.”

_\- he was still hoping for you -_

“and guess what, bro? you know this, too. you know this. you just pretend otherwise.” You lean even closer, staring straight into his sockets. “but y’know what? you were right. it’s time to stop pretending once and for all. _"_

_\- still believing in you -_

“J u s t  g i v e  u p . _"_

_\- even when he understood nothing._

You take a step back and give him a wicked smile, your head cocked to one side. ”i did.”

Papyrus is looking at you - you can’t even describe how he’s looking at you now. He’s tearing up, his breath coming in quick, ragged gasps, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. He looks away, trying to blink away the tears.

“S-sans…”

Good job, Sans. You made your baby brother cry.

Not that that’s anything new.

“I… I know it’s hard for you, but… but...”

Your hands move involuntarily for a split second, a part of your soul wanting to comfort him, to reassure him that it’s alright, that you love him, that he’s more precious to you than anything. You resist the urge, aware that it’s only a residual habit from days long past. You don’t deserve to touch him. You don’t even deserve to breath the same air as him. Your love has been a lie for a long while now, replaced by remorse and self-loathing since you first raised a hand against him. And now you’re desperately grasping at these feelings in order to not give in to your hatred. To convince yourself that you still have a shred of sanity left.

“just go.”

Papyrus doesn’t look at you, just nods wordlessly and sets off to his room, his shoulders hunched, his footsteps slow. From your end of the darkened landing, you more hear than see his bedroom door open and close quietly.

Well, it’s time to resort to the only method that makes _you_ forget.

It’s time to get plastered.

*

Grillby’s is still open, a warm, welcoming light shining through the windows, illuminating the snow around the building. The athmosphere is friendly as always, too, the usual company greeting you enthusiastically when they see you enter. Bun waves at you from one of the boxes.

“Sansy! Good to see you! Come and sit with… me?”

You're not in the mood to even bother with acknowledging their presence. Without saying a word, you make a beeline for the bar and pull yourself up on a stool. You lean on your folded arms and raise a finger to call Grillby, who promptly pours you a shot and throws in a packet of ketchup that you take care to empty into the glass before downing it in one go.

Ahh. Better.

“pass me another one.”

The fire monster gives you a questioning look from behind his glasses, his flames crackling softly.

“i don’t give a crap about my tab right now.”

Without a word, Grillby complies; he always does, the reliable fellow he is. After the second glass, you feel your awful mood mellowing out a little. After the third, the homeliness of the place becomes even homelier. After the seventh, your soul almost feels warm again.

As the evening turns into night and the empty glasses start to form a long row in front of you, you find yourself becoming more and more chatty, opening up to the usual small talk. After all, you’re all friends here, right? Guilty, insane, murderous friends. Nothing special. That said, the others don’t seem to be that eager to engage in conversation with you.

“okay. didja hear the one about the monster who’s gotten run over?”, you ask Wells, the Nice Cream vendor who’s sitting next to you, sipping his milkshake. He shakes his head uncertainly. “heh, of course you didn’t. it’s ‘cause i just made it up. anyway, you weren’t missing anything, it’s really pe _dust_ rian.”

You snort. This wasn’t bad at all. Wells blinks at you before forcing a weak chuckle, clearly feeling uncomfortable. But hey, that’s his problem, not yours. You shrug and grab the eighth glass. It nearly slips out of your phalanges before you can empty it. Your speech is getting slurred, and some of the monsters sitting at the bar give you a concerned look.

“hey, here’s another one. why did the monster kill himself?”

Nobody gives you an answer.

“‘cause it was his _dust_ iny.”

You break into a drunken laughter at your own joke, vaguely aware that you’re the only one to do so.

“y’see, it’s - it’s funny ‘cause he’s dead. turned into dust. nothing but dust. dust, dust, dust everywhere.”

Again the silence. Eh. Fuck’em if they’re too stupid to realize how hilarious it is. You, for one, find it irresistibly funny, chortling loudly before you can get a hold of yourself. Grillby stops in front of you, wiping a glass. His voice is quiet but firm.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Sans?”

“yeah. it’s about this tough room you got here. have you all lost your funny bones?”

Grillby doesn’t make a reply, just adjusts his glasses and keeps on wiping. Your look at him sullenly, your mood quickly ruined by the fact that by now, you’ve remained alone at the bar. Of course, it doesn’t mean you can’t entertain yourself for a little more. You’ll show them what a comedian you are. You beat that Snowdrake kid any time.

“okay. lemme think of another one”, you grumble. “just - just a sec.”

You’re ready to bury your head into your folded arms to rest a bit when you hear Grillby’s pleasantly warm flames crackle a little louder.

“You should go home, Sans. Papyrus must be waiting for you.”

“i go home when i had enough.”

“I think you had enough already.”

“i couldn’t care less about what you think, dude”, you snap at him. “i don’t give a flying fuck, capiche?” You slam the glass on the counter, startling a few of the patrons, and suddenly, an idea occurs to you. Your grin widens in anticipation. “and you know why?”

_Heh heh. This is going to be the best of all._

“i tell ya why. i tell ya.” You prop your chin up with your palm and look up at the fire monster who’s still wiping the glass patiently. Your grin twists into a grimace, pupils disappering into darkness. “it’s ‘cause i killed you, grillbz.” You close an eyesocket playfully, your voice remaining casual. “yep. i fuckin’ murdered you. like, i dunno, maybe a dozen times? hell if i remember.”

Grillby’s hand stops for a second, and when he resumes cleaning the glass, his movements are noticeably slower. He clearly has some hazy recollection of the previous timelines, a fleeting sense of dread, a flicker of despair, you can see it in the hesitation that has seeped into his demeanor. You snicker at his reaction. Looks like someone isn’t so stoic after all, huh?

Let’s carry on with the show, then.

“wanna know how?” With a snap of your fingers, you summon a blaster. Through the thick haze of the liquor, you’re vaguely aware of the terrified gasps of the patrons, chairs falling over, Lesser Dog whimpering in fear. At the sight of the huge draconic skull hovering menacingly below the ceiling, even Grillby takes a small step back, putting the glass down. You let out a snort. “that’s how, my friend.”

The bartender quickly gets himself together and turns to you again. His voice is even and gentle, as if he was trying to coax the truth out of you without provoking you.

“I’m listening, Sans.”

Anger flares up in you at his reserved, quiet manner. Envy is eating you alive because they have it so damn easy. They can afford themselves to remain calm and collected and all smug and superior. No matter what happens, they just forget and carry on, the lucky bastards. For a moment, you feel nothing but hatred toward them. You voice drops to a hostile growl, your grip tightening on your glass.

“so you’re listening, huh? then lemme tell ya that ‘listening’ won’t do any good. nothing will do any good. it’s all in vain ‘cause you’ll just forget it anyway. so you can take your ‘listening’ and shove it up your flaming ass.”

Satisfied with your answer, you prepare to empty your glass when you realize something’s wrong. You turn on your stool, only to meet with the sight of the patrons looking at you in deathly silence.

Oh, yeah. The blaster. You snap your fingers again, dismissing it, and send down the last remaining drops.

“you can stop staring”, you shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “i killed you, too, y’know. every single one of you.”

No sooner than you finish the sentence, Grillby folds the cleaning towel and gives a quick nod in the others’ direction, wordlessly telling them it’s time to leave. Well fuck them. Fuck them all. You raise a hand, palm facing outwards, as a placating gesture.

“hey, no need for that.” You put your glass on the counter before you might drop it. “i know when i’m not welcome. i’ll see myself out.” You slide off the stool, barely avoiding tripping over your own feet in the process. “oh, and put it on my tab, grillbz. or not, whatever you want. ‘s not like it would matter by tomorrow morning.”

You slam the door on your way out and immediately get hit in the face with the chilly winds of your hometown - if you can still call it that. You stagger for a moment from dizziness, and you have to lean on the door for support. Damn, you’re more drunk than you thought. After you more or less regain your balance, you take a few deep breaths to clear your head a little and head off to Snowdin Forest. You don’t want to go home. Not yet. Not ever. After all you’ve said, you don’t have the courage to face Papyrus in the morning.

You’re dragging your feet through the snow, stumbling here and there, your steps swaying and uncertain. At some point, you somehow manage to lose a slipper, your sock gradually getting soaking wet, but you couldn’t care less.

They could sense it, you muse bitterly. They could sense the danger. They might think it was just the ordinary nervousness one feels in the company of any violent drunkard. Through the mist of endless resets, through the labyrinthine paths of repeating timelines, they might forget. But they can still sense it. In their heart of hearts, in their soul of souls, they will always know that they can’t trust you.

And it’s for the best, really. They should fear you. They should shun and reject you wherever you go. It feels good. It feels right.

Because monsters like you can kill them any time they want to.

Because monsters like you _will_ kill them any time they want to.

Because monsters like you…

...should be **burning in hell.**

And one day, you certainly will. So why not today?

Even with the liquor muddying your thoughts, you’re keenly aware that you shouldn’t do this. You know you should stay alive, stay alert and vigilant, keeping a close eye on the human’s every move. You can’t quit. You can’t ever quit.

...Can you?

You lean against a pine tree and stare into the underground darkness.

_So what if they kill everyone again?_

_Then what?_

_Nothing would change. Nothing ever changes._

_They all die anyway._

The wind starts to pick up, wuthering among the trees, making you shiver. You reach for your hood to pull it up, the movement eerily familiar, and your hand stops. The chill that grabbed your soul this morning returns tenfold, and for a moment, you see what you’ve become with such clarity that it frightens you.

You might have restrained yourself from hurting others for now. You might have restrained yourself from killing. But you’re still stuck in those abandoned caverns full of dust. You’re still the same merciless monster who willingly and systematically hunted down and murdered all of his friends. Despite everything, you’re still a danger to them.

And you certainly didn’t say anything about sticking around for anyone’s sake.

_You know what to do._

You take care to go deep into the woods where you can’t be seen from the road anymore, and check for any hidden cameras before settling on a relatively secluded spot. As you summon a large, sharp-tipped bone, you don’t feel anything. It’s not like you haven’t been through this countless times. You flick your left hand and your brain barely even registers the pain as the bone pierces through your torso. You fall on your kneecaps, sinking deep into the snow, and, closing your eyesockets, you let your consciousness flicker out, plummeting into darkness until nothing remains but your dust-covered hoodie lying empty under the pine trees.

*

You wake up in your room, staring at the ceiling from the questionable comfort of your worn-down mattress. The first light of the fabricated underground dawn is just barely visible above the rooftops.

No matter how many times it happened, it’s still a little strange to be able to remember your own death. It’s always the same, even if it’s different every time. Your vision submerges into a bluish-gray haze, your senses fluctuating between alert panic and dizziness, magic pulsing through your body in a desperate attempt to heal itself before inevitably dissolving into air, small particles of dust swirling around aimlessly, until your very soul gets torn apart to thin white petals. Not a particularly pleasant feeling.

Still, if it’s the choice between dying again or going through one more day like this, one more moment like this, you definitely prefer the former.

So after scribbling a note to your brother that you finally decided to go on a vacation and gluing it to the front of your booth, you go through with it again. Maybe this time it will stick.

*

You wake up in your room, staring at the ceiling from the questionable comfort of your worn-down mattress. The first light of the fabricated underground dawn is just barely visible above the rooftops.

The only downside of falling asleep is that eventually, you have to wake up.

Except for one special case that you once again welcome with open arms.

*

You wake up in your room, staring at the ceiling from the questionable comfort of your worn-down mattress. The first light of the fabricated underground dawn is just barely visible above the rooftops.

This has to stop.

You will make it stop.

You decide to meet the kid at the usual spot to have a serious talk. You briefly consider just teleporting right to the ruins and catch them there, but the thought of seeing the old lady again after all you’ve done makes you feel ill. So you rather wait among the trees in the morning of the second day, drawing nonsenical patterns in the snow with your slippered foot, idly picking the needles off a fallen pine branch until you hear the heavy stone doors open and close.

There they are, as always. You’re watching them from your hiding place as they trudge through the snow, their arms wrapped closely around their torso against the cold. You look for any stray flecks of dust on their hands since you can’t check their LOVE from this distance. They’re turning their head left and right, as if trying to catch sight of something. Too bad you’ve always been good at surprises.

They spin around when they hear the twig snap. Their face is tense and worried. It doesn’t suit them at all, the thought occurs to you.

“heya.”

You quickly check their stats and you’re slightly surprised to find that they are still at LV 1. Maybe they indeed intend to make good on their promise. Or not. Either way, you won’t be here to witness it.

“Sans!”

The kid is clearly relieved to see you alive. You can’t say you agree with them on that. They tread towards you, arms extended, as if they wanted to give you a hug, but they stop when they see you’re not making any move. An awkward silence settles in as they take a small step back and lower their arms, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. You lean against a tree, hands in pockets, and give them a sharp smile.

“so. still practicing that vow of mercy?”

They nod hesitantly, reverting back to muteness again. Your smile doesn’t even waver as you look to the side, casually eyeing the dark stone roof looming above the treetops.

“nice to hear. ‘cause lemme tell ya, repeatedly resurrecting someone who’d clearly prefer to stay dead would be a pretty merciless move, now wouldn’t it?”

They frown slightly and take a deep breath, biting their lip. When they speak at last, their tone is firm.

„I promise not to reset anymore if you promise you won’t hurt yourself this time.”

„i don’t make promises, kid.”

“Then I will reset again.”

You inhale sharply.

„is that your solution to every problem you face? go back in time to make it not happen? you sure know how to _dodge_ consequences, buddy.”

They flinch at that but still carry on.

“I don’t want you to die.”

„i couldn’t care less about what you want, kid.”

„Sans, I - I know you’re feeling guilty. I felt horrible, too, when they - when I let them kill everyone. I still feel horrible about it! I know that it’s not something that… that you can forget.” They look up at you, their eyes pleading. “But this is not what you are! You can still set things right! I know it!”

“so you’re just going to keep resetting until you can make me see the truth? denying everyone else their only hope so you can feel good about yourself? our hero and savior, everyone.” Your tone is bitter and mocking, even if you know you’re unfair to them. You just don’t care.

“But - they won’t get their happy ending without you.”

“you got it backwards, pal. they won’t get their happy ending if i stick around.”

“Think about what they would do if they found out that you’re dead, Sans! What they felt in the previous timelines when they did find it out!” That’s the thing you want to think the least about, thank you very much. “Think about Papyrus -”

Your left eye flashes blue as you pin them down with your magic. They cry out in surprise, squirming in vain to shake off the gravitational force that keeps them on the ground. Detaching yourself from the tree-trunk, you slowly close the distance between the two of you.

_How dare they._

“coming at me with papyrus, huh?”

Your eyelights disappear into the void of your sockets as you lean down to their face, your grin a menacing snarl.

“listen closely, kid. you have no idea what I went through to keep my brother safe. no idea. i did everything to keep him out of the guard. to keep him out of danger. and first and foremost of all, to keep him away from you humans. and then guess what? i let my guard down for a sec - and you and your buddy come and kill him in front of my eyes, force me to LET you do it, force me to WATCH, force me to fucking KILL HIM. you forced me to kill my own brother, buddy. pal. friend. and after all the crap you pulled you DARE come back and use this lovey-dovey friendship wanna-save-you bullshit on me?”

They stop struggling as you grab the neck of their shirt roughly and lift them even closer.

“you think it’s easy to start over after all i’ve done? you think staying alive would be an option for me? you really think i’ll put myself through this crap even one more time just because you tried to manipulate me with papyrus?!”

Your phalanges tighten into a fist, your voice a deep growl.

“N o t .  G o n n a .  H a p p e n .”

“SANS? WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO? IS THERE SOMEONE ELSE WITH YOU?”

With a flick of your wrist, you release the kid and toss them among the trees because you don’t feel like dealing with introductions right now, to put it mildly.

Your brother is approaching from the clearing where he was working on his newest trap. He carries himself upright and proud, his scarf billowing after him. For a moment, all you can think about is how he was lying in the snow helplessly, impaled by sharp white bones, his voice strained from the pain, his breath weakening, but still hoping for you, still smiling at you, still certain that you did it all with a good reason.

“no, paps. i was just thinking out loud.”

“ARE YOU… UM… SURE?”

“uh. yeah, i’m sure there’s nobody else here. though truth be told, i’m _pining_ for some company.”

Papyrus doesn’t even groan at the pun. He’s fidgeting with his gloves, apparently at a loss about how to express his concern in a way that won’t make you clam up like usual. In the end, he decides to just be straightforward.

“I KNOW YOU DON’T LIKE TO TALK ABOUT THESE THINGS, BUT… ARE YOU FEELING WELL, BROTHER? YOU BARELY TOUCHED YOUR BREAKFAST THIS MORNING, AND YOU LOOKED MORE TIRED THAN… WELL, THAN USUAL.”

“heh, sure. everything’s alright.”

“DO YOU - DO YOU MAYBE WANT ME TO STAY WITH YOU FOR A WHILE?”

“no, bro, thanks. i’m okay, really.”

“I CAN HELP YOU WITH YOUR PUZZLES, IF YOU’D LIKE TO.”

You feel yourself getting impatient, irritation creeping into your voice.

“papyrus, i’m fine. i just want to be alone for a while. okay?”

His face falls.

“O-OKAY. THEN I JUST… I’LL JUST BE OVER THERE. IF YOU NEED ME.”

“sure.”

He turns back in the direction of the clearing, his posture radiating sadness. You know you should just say something reassuring so that everyhing will be well once again. You should just lie, as you always do. Nothing is easier. With so much practice, you could give a master class on the topic by now.

But sooner or later, all of you have to face the truth. And the truth is that you’re not worth it. The truth is that you deserve death.

And you will make the kid see the truth no matter what it takes.

_No matter who it takes._

_Heh._

_Heh heh._

_Why not?_

Your chuckle is bitter and desperate. Hey, you did this before. Several times. You can do it one more time. You steel yourself and make sure your voice is loud enough for Frisk to hear it from their hiding place when you call out after Papyrus.

“hey, paps!”

He turns around, practically whirling on the spot, hope written over his face that you’re finally going to open up to him. You manage to force a weak smile.

“look at this awesome trick i learned a while ago.”

Your left eye flares up and two blasters appear above you, facing toward your brother. His jaw drops as he takes in the sight, clearly impressed by your display. Then he turns to you, his face lightened up with giddy excitement.

“WOWIE! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU CAN DO THIS, TOO! BUT YOURS ARE -”

He doesn’t have time to finish the sentence. You slam down your hand and Papyrus is violently knocked back from the force of the rays that hit him square in the chest. He falls on his back in the snow, hard, and for a few seconds, he’s just lying there, confused and disoriented, heaving in pain, unable to grasp what has happened. Then he shakes his head and immediately winces, one hand coming up to clutch at his sternum where he has been hit, his battle body already burnt to pieces.

“OW... SANS, BE - BE CAREFUL NEXT TIME! YOU… UGH… YOU HIT ME BY ACCIDENT!”

He coughs and wheezes, then tries to get back on his feet, only to get pinned down to the ground by your blue attack. He cries out in surprise as gravity intensifies around him, but forces himself up on his knees.

“OUCH! SANS, WHAT ARE YOU -”

Then he finally looks up and sees your face.

“S… s-sans?”

You’re scared of how calm you sound.

“it’s okay, papyrus. it’s okay. it will be over soon. just stay there, okay? just stay where you are.”

His eyesockets widen in shock as he realizes that you’re engaged in battle. Still weighed down by the blue force field, he gives up his turn, making your job all the more easy. You send a bone straight through his spine and he screams.

“Brother! Brother, what are you doing? Are you sick?”

He doesn’t fight back.

He never ever fought back.

His death was the slowest and most painful of them all. Even after you have massacred all of the Underground, even with the raw excitement at the prospect of a new kill pulsing hungrily in your soul, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him.

You move your hands, your eyes glowing, unable to take your pupils off the horrifying display in front of you, hearing Papyrus cry out helplessly again and again, and you feel nothing but pain.

No.

You feel something else.

 _Boredom_.

“Sans! Sans, please stop! Whatever is hurting you, I’m sure we can fix it! Please!”

The strange chill comes back again and your hand trembles for a moment, but you quickly return to your senses. You can still force yourself to do this. It is nothing special. It is nothing out of the ordinary for you.

_Once a murderer, always a murderer._

“i’m sorry. this must be done. for your sake.”

“What - wh-why?”

“you don’t have to know why. just -”

“STOP!!”

Papyrus snaps his head when he hears the desperate, high-pitched cry. Frisk has finally scrambled out from the undergrowth and they’re now stumbling toward you in the deep snow, their shirt torn, their face scratched and dirty. You turn toward them, your face frozen into a grinning mask.

“thought you’d join the show, buddy?”

“Sans, stop! This is - this is not you!”

_This is me._

They try to grab your arm, only to get knocked back by a bone wall. They tumble back in the snow but get up immediately, making another attempt to get closer, crying out to you again.

“Sans, please! I know you think there’s no hope, but that’s not true! Please!”

You will teach them a lesson. You will make them see the truth.

“sorry, kid. close, but no cigar.”

You turn back to Papyrus, who’s been staring at the two of you numbly, weakened from his wounds, and steel yourself. You swing your hand, conjuring up a bone attack, the thin, jagged pieces aimed at your brother.

In a few moments, both of you will be free.

You slam down your fist, and -

“Wait -”

It’s not even a moment, just a splinter in time. You only see a blue blur, followed by a sickening crack, an explosion of bones and snow and death.

Then nothing. A small waft of winter air, swaying the pine branches lightly. Heavy, painful panting, coming from somewhere ahead of you. The metallic smell of something dreadful.

“...Brother?”

Frisk is lying between you and Papyrus, face down, motionless, impaled by the projectiles. The snow around him is slowly turning into a bloody slush, red seeping into pristine white, darkening it, tainting it. (Blood has always fascinated you. So alien. So human.) Papyrus is looking on helplessly, his gloved hands come up to cover his mouth, his eyesockets wide with horror, turning back and forth between you and the child’s corpse.

“What… Sans - what did you… what did you...”

You stagger for a moment as you bury your face in your palms, your entire body shaking with silent, choked laughter.

_Now he knows. He knows what you’re really like._

_No matter how much he loves you. No matter how hard he tries to forget._

_He will always know._

“...Sans?”

You finally gather the strength to look up, your ribcage still heaving from your attempts to contain your laughter. Papyrus is staring right at you, standing on the same spot, not daring to make a move. You see his face, the look in his eyes and you - you can’t bear this for one more moment.

_Just let it end already._

You flash your brother a smile, broken and empty.

“i’m sorry”, you whisper, raising your hand for one last time.

“SANS!!”

As you collapse in the snow, you sincerely hope that this time, there will be no waking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. The first try didn’t quite end with sunshine and rainbows for all.  
> As for Frisk hiding in the undergrowth - I’m aware that pine forests don’t really have ground vegetation, so just pretend that it’s magical monster undergrowth genetically engineered by Alphys to grow specifically under pine trees.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the long delay! Here, have some cover art as compensation: https://orig00.deviantart.net/e44c/f/2018/279/9/c/absolution_cover_by_foxcake-dcor3o3.png
> 
> WARNING: Depiction of self-harm in the beginning of this chapter.

You wake up in your room, staring at the ceiling from the questionable comfort of your worn-down mattress –

– and immediately sense that something’s different.

You stay sprawled on your back for a few minutes, phalanges fiddling with one corner of the crumpled bedsheet, trying to figure out what has changed. Nothing seems out of the ordinary - the silence is certainly familiar, though once again, it’s not the result of someone’s killing spree. You scramble to your feet and step to the window, squinting groggily at the river, the rooftops, the silhouette of the pine trees in the distance. The details are almost identical, but you feel a slight sense of urgency in the air, like time itself was flowing at a different pace, and it _dawns_ on you (heh heh. You just can’t ever stop with the jokes, can you?) that it’s the second day of the loop already.

As the usual queasiness and disorientation caused by the new reset slowly seep away, the memories start to return, wedging themselves into your mind like shards of ice. You lean on the windowsill, eyelights fading out.

The brat didn’t even leave you a whole day to take your leave in peace. They must have used a different save point, pushing time forward by force, sentencing you to living. And if you escape, they’ll just do it again. They won’t let you get away. No matter what you do, no matter who you kill, they will just reset again.

With a snap of your fingers, you take a shortcut to the hidden grotto. Keeping in mind that you’re not on your own this time, you take a quick peek outside to make sure nobody’s around yet. The caves of Waterfall are as dim and quiet as ever.

You bury your skull in your hands, pressing your palms hard against the bone, shutting your eyesockets tightly. You take a deep breath.

You scream.

You scream and once you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop. You scream. You scream and curl your phalanges around your temples, trying to scrape out every remaining shred of thought and feeling. You scream and kick at the cave walls, harder and harder and harder until dust starts to seep through the fabric of your socks. You scream until your throat hurts, until your ribcage feels like it’s about to collapse in on itself. The echo flowers tremble and sway at the force of the sound, hurling it back and forth, up and down, amplifying it thousandfold, drowning you in a demented cacophony of your own voice. You scream and slam your fists into the stone, bruising and cracking your knuckles, chipping away at the bone, and you feel nothing, nothing at all but the overwhelming need to crush and wreck and destroy and turn it all to dust, and in the next moment, blinding white rays are slamming into the rocky surface, sending shrapnels of stone flying everywhere, blasting, burning, crashing, attacking with full force, and still too weak, so laughably, pathetically weak, still unable to break you out of this godforsaken prison of eternal return, and yet you can’t stop, you can’t ever stop, if you’re lucky maybe you can make the entire mountain collapse on you, burying you all alive and –

Your rampage is cut short by a sudden coughing fit that makes you double up with pain. You  stumble and press a hand against the wall for support, hacking and wheezing, trying to catch your breath. Your body is shaking from the exertion, your legs threatening to give up on you, your skull ringing with the last of the echoes and your labored breathing. The red mist that made you blind and deaf just a minute ago gradually dissipates, and sharp waves of pain come crashing down in its place, a sobering reminder that you don’t have those extra levels anymore. You’re even more of a pitiful weakling than you used to be.

Exhausted and hurting, you slouch to the ground, resting your forehead in the dirt, your throat sore, your limbs heavy as lead. After all those times you defeated the human, the all-too familiar feeling of helplessness and hopelessness comes back with renewed strength. You’re in their hands. You can’t win. You can’t fight back. You can’t get out. You can’t even die. It’s pointless. Everything is pointless.

Your clench your fist and tear out a thin tuft of luminescent underground grass, grinding it into a stringy pulp between your phalanges, groaning faintly like a sick animal.

You have hit rock bottom.

You’re lying in a stupor, silence settling over you like a heavy blanket. The echoes of your screams have already faded away, leaving only the soft rush of water behind. Time passes.

Well.

You should probably do something.

You haul yourself up on the charred remains of the bench, pulling off your slipper and sock to take a look at your left foot. You definitely broke something there, as making an attempt to move your toes results in a sharp hiss of pain. In hindsight, throwing a tantrum wasn’t your best idea ever. One more move and everything could have been reset yet another damn time because peace and love and pacifism and _let’s save poor old murderous Sans even if it takes fifty zillion tries._

You put your sock back on and try to gather your thoughts a little. Not that there’s many of them by this point. The kid is about to arrive soon, and they likely want to have a word with you. Sure, why not. If attempting to slowly and painfully kill your own brother in front of their eyes wasn’t enough to convince them to give up on you, then nothing is. You might as well stop pretending you have any say in this. You know when you’re beaten.

As you get up to leave, you think you catch a flash of yellow from the corner of one eyesocket, but by the time you turn your gaze, there’s nothing there.

*

The woods are silent, like usual. The weather is gloomy, like usual. You’re slouching against a tree-trunk, shoulders hunched, hands buried in your pockets, waiting for them to appear. Waiting like you always do. Waiting like the good obedient monster you are. You’re shifting your weight from one foot to another, your left ankle throbbing unpleasantly. Your hands aren’t in a much better shape either. It’s probably nothing a hearty meal and a long rest couldn’t fix, but you vastly prefer hunger and pain to seeing other people right now. Or ever. You’re staring blankly into space, your mind empty, your senses so numb that the rapidly approaching bootsteps don’t even register with you until you hear his voice.

“SANS!”

Oh. Yeah. You knew you’ve forgotten about something.

Your latest victim. Or almost-victim, whatever.

You keep on staring ahead, not moving, not bothering to look up. There’s no point.

“hey.”

“I FINALLY FOUND YOU, BROTHER!” Papyrus stops to catch his breath, bending over to rest his hands on his kneecaps. “WHAT UNDER THE EARTH WERE YOU DOING OUT OF THE HOUSE AT THIS HOUR? DID YOU ULTIMATELY REALIZE THE BENEFITS OF EARLY MORNING EXERCISE?”

A thought occurs to you. Instead of giving an answer, you lift your head so you can see your brother’s face. He’s looking at you expectantly, clearly relieved that you’re still alive and whole. Your eyelights meet his gaze briefly as you’re searching for something, you can’t even imagine what. Whatever it is, you don’t find it. You slump back, your soul as empty as it was before. It feels safe, even comforting.

“SANS?” Here we go again. “ARE YOU… ARE YOU FEELING WELL?”

You should lie to him like always. You should spare his feelings.

“no.”

“SANS! WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SO EARLIER? I ASKED YOU RIGHT AWAY LAST EVENING WHEN YOU DIDN’T WANT TO WATCH THE MTT SHOW WITH ME!”

“didn’t want you to worry.”

“WELL, I’M WORRIED ANYWAY! ESPECIALLY SINCE WE’VE BEEN TALKING FOR SEVERAL SECONDS NOW, AND YOU HAVEN’T SAID A SINGLE PUN YET!”

“we can easily help that,” you shrug listlessly. “wanna hear a knock-knock joke?”

“CERTAINLY NOT! AND DON’T TRY TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT, SANS. YOU MUST BE DEEPLY UPSET ABOUT SOMETHING. YOU’VE BEEN THIS WAY SINCE YOU WOKE UP YESTERDAY MORNING.”

“guess i have.” Have you? It’s been so long, you don’t even know anymore if it hasn’t been just a bad dream. If it’s not all just a bad, neverending dream. “dunno.”

Papyrus must be worried sick about seeing your like this, but you can’t find it in you to care. If anything, it makes you want to shut him out even more. You stand still, your eyelights stubbornly fixed on a random spot in front of you. Maybe if you’re lucky, he’ll just give up and leave to recalibrate his puzzles for the day.

_Please just go._

Your breath catches in your throat as you suddenly find yourself in his tight embrace. Hit with all his feelings toward you, your body goes rigid with shock, lost in a torrent of worry, love, hope, despair, trying to reach you, to keep you safe and sound by sheer force of will. It’s far, far too much to handle, and your soul instinctively retreats into the deepest recesses of your ribcage, trying to get away from it all. You want nothing more than to be let go, but right now you can barely muster the energy to stand up straight. You might as well humor him for a little while. Slowly, carefully, you allow yourself to lean into him, your skull flush against his chest.

It’s not that bad. Almost bearable. You can feel his soul pulsing softly right next to you: warm, tender, full of love.

_Full of EXP._

It all comes flooding back. The grief, the horror, the pain. The _hunger_. Your own soul springs to life, trying to get close to him, trying to connect with his emotions, and you push yourself away in a panic, struggling to break free. Scared by your erratic behavior, Papyrus cries out and grabs your hoodie, tugging at the fabric to keep you close. You twist your spine and tear yourself loose from his hands, stumbling backwards, raising your hands up to keep him away, to keep it all out.

“SANS! SANS, WHAT’S WRONG?”

“S t a y  b a c k .”

_Why am I still feeling this?_

“ARE YOU IN PAIN? DID I HURT YOU?”

_Why am I still able to feel anything?_

“PLEASE TELL ME, BROTHER! JUST LET ME HELP YOU! PLEASE!”

You’re trembling. No matter how hard you’re trying to contain it, your entire body is shaking. You wish he’d go away forever. You wish he’d just disappear from your life so you can finally stop lying and pretending, so you can let it all go. You rub your temples and take a few deep breaths to collect yourself. It’s clear that he’s not safe with you. As long as you’re around, he’s in danger. They all are.

Papyrus calls your name again softly and reaches out with a tentative hand. Your body jerks back involuntarily, and you swiftly put some distance between you, avoiding his gaze, fighting the urge to just pull your hood up and hide your face.

“SANS…”

He sounds dejected, but he doesn’t come any closer. Good. You can do this. You _must_ do this.

“papyrus,” you manage to croak out, your voice breaking upon uttering his name. “can i ask you to do something? it’s… it’s important.”

“ANYTHING, BROTHER. ASK AWAY!”

Your resolve nearly crumbles upon hearing the hope in his voice. He’s so glad that he can finally make you feel better in some way. He’s so eager to make things right.

You look your brother in the eyesockets, fully aware that you’re going to break his heart once again.

“please leave me alone.”

A moment of silence.

“OH.” He frowns, not quite understanding the implications of your request. “OKAY, THEN. I DO HAVE SOME TRAPS I MUST BE WORKING ON ANYWAY. THEN WHEN I’M FINISHED, I’M GOING TO PICK YOU UP AND –”

“no,” you shake your head firmly. “i mean i want you to leave me alone for a long while. i don’t know for how long yet.”

Papyrus’ face falls.

“WH… WHAT?”

“it’s alright, papyrus. i’m gonna be alright. i just want some time to think.”

“BUT… CAN’T – CAN’T I THINK WITH YOU?”

“no.” You close your eyesockets for a moment, focusing on keeping your composure. It won’t do to let him see how much of a mess you are inside. “it’s not something you can help with. besides, you should concentrate on your training now.” You force a wink, accompanied by the shadow of a smile. “the royal guard’s still missing a cool skeleton member.”

“I – I KNOW, BUT THIS IS… YOU ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN THAT… AND… AND I HAVE THIS FOREBODING FEELING THAT I MUST PROTECT YOU FROM SOMETHING... PLEASE...”

_I must protect you from myself._

“you asked me how you can help,” you remind him gently. “this is how.”

Your tone is calm, earnest, without any hint of emotion, and his eyesockets widen in fear when he realizes that he’s about to lose you.

He doesn’t know that you’re already lost to him.

“SANS… BROTHER...”

“please go,” you whisper, meeting his eyes with your last drop of willpower. “please.”

You’re staring at each other in silence, seconds passing by, neither of you making a move. Papyrus’ gaze is searching your face, perhaps to find the same thing you were looking for, and you can pinpoint the exact moment when it finally sinks in with him that something is very wrong. So wrong that he can’t possibly make it right. His ever-present smile falters, giving way to wariness. When he at last breaks the silence, you can barely recognize his voice.

“Alright, Sans. I’ll go.”

“thank you.”

His hand moves a little toward your shoulder before he stops himself.

“...Please take care of yourself.”

“i will.”

Papyrus turns away from you, hands clutching at his scarf. You can’t even imagine how he must feel right now, his movements weak, uncertain, as if he had to force his limbs to move against his will. But he still obeys. He still obeys because you asked him to do it, and he trusts your judgment. You’re looking after him as he limps along the snowy track, his head bowed as if he was struggling against a strong wind to get ahead. There’s not a trace of his usual energy in his step, his scarf hanging lifelessly from his shoulders. For a moment, you feel the overwhelming desire to call out after him, but you restrain yourself. Right before he’d disappear at the turn of the path, he stops abruptly, lifting his head. He makes a small, jerky motion with one foot.

You hold your breath.

Then he carries on, not looking back.

The moment he’s gone from your sight, you let the air out and rub your forehead. Knowing that you’ll never be close to him ever again fills you with an odd sense of finality, even some kind of faint relief. In the end, this is most likely the best possible choice you could have made.

He deserves to be free.

Well. Time to pick up where you left.

“you can come out now.”

Frisk sticks their head out from behind the conveniently-shaped lamp they had sneaked behind a few minutes ago, unnoticed by your brother.

“so,” you turn to them. “any particular reason you’re still here?”

“You know why I’m here, Sans,” they say gravely, stepping a little closer.

“my bad. what i meant to ask was if there’s any _good_ reason you’re still here.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“looks like it’s your lucky day then, pal. i’m listening. it’s not that i have much of a choice anyway, is it?”

Frisk flinches slightly at your tone, but carries on nevertheless.

“I… I’m not saying that I know how you’re feeling, Sans. I’d be lying if I said that. And I’m not asking you to be my friend or anything. I know I can’t ask for it. But I _am_ asking for you to try and – and think of your friends. Please.” Their fist clenches around the stick they are carrying. “If you don’t want to see me ever again, it’s fine. I won’t bother you anymore. But this is not about me. It’s not about me at all. It’s about them.”

Just hearing this again exhausts you beyond measure. The more Frisk talks, the more they grind you down, until you’re feeling more tired than ever. They don’t get it. They still don’t get it.

“i concur, kid. it _is_ about them. and they are better off without me.”

“No, they’re not,” Frisk looks at you with a serious expression. “They need you. They need their friend.”

“they sure as hell don’t need a ‘friend’ who murdered them several times.”

“You have no idea how scared and remorseful Papyrus was when he found out you disappeared, Sans. He didn’t even try to capture me! He didn’t care at all, he just wanted you to come home!” Their voice quivers for a moment. “And when - when Dogaressa finally found your hoodie in the woods… she was devastated. She couldn’t believe it. Nobody wanted to believe it. Grillby closed the bar. Wells closed up his cart. The entire town was in mourning, Sans.”

_They will get over it._

“If only you knew how much they love you...”

_Too bad I’m unable to love them back anymore._

“of course they think they love me, kid. of course they’d want me back as long as they don’t know the truth.”

Frisk bites their lip, frowning in thought.

“M-maybe you can –”

“tell them?” The idea seems so absurd, it makes you snort in disbelief. “sure, that would make everything better. ‘hey, asgore, remember the time i killed you? and that other time? and the other twenty times? good, just wanted to say i’m sorry for that. no hard feelings, right?’”

Frisk doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that, resorting to just clutching their elbow with one hand.

“thing is, i already did it, buddy.” Your mouth curls into a lopsided grin upon seeing their shocked expression. “yep. blurted it all out after having a few too many. and guess what? they were all scared to death. the would’ve fled if they hadn’t been so afraid that i might, y’know, massacre them. so, uh, nope. that road is closed.” Your pupils vanish into the darkness of your eyesockets, your voice hardening. “unless you really think they need to hear the uplifting story of the human child who slaughtered them all after promising to be their friend.”

Frisk cringes at the acrid remark as if bitten by a snake. They lower their head and say nothing.

“thought so,” you carry on after a moment. “not that it’s any of my business, of course. if you want to spend the rest of your life lying to everyone, be my guest. as for me, i had more than enough of it. i need a rest. without an extra ‘e’, if you catch my drift.”

“Sans… please.” They are begging you now. Lovely. “You gave me a second chance. You should give yourself one, too.”

„look, kid – determination is all well and good, but honestly? past a point, it’s just banging your head against a brick wall. you should know when to pack it in. and as i see it, today is the perfect day to do so. there are people who can’t be saved, no matter how hard you try. so – y’know. just stop.”

“I know what you’ve been through, Sans. I know everything you did. I was there. And I –”

“then why are you still doing this?” you snap at them in frustration. “if you know all the unbelievably fucked up shit i did then why the hell are you still here, trying to keep me alive? why don’t you just let me die? why?!”

“Because you’re my friend!” they cry out loud. For a second, you’re so taken aback that you can’t even think of a comeback, allowing Frisk enough time to go on. “I know you want nothing to do with me! I know you can’t forgive me! I know – I know you hate me! But I still care about you, Sans! And you can’t force me to give up on you! You can’t!”

They stop, trembling and short of breath, shaken up by their own words. Their brown bangs fall over their eyes, casting a shadow over their round face. They look so small, so helpless. You sigh softly to yourself.

“i don’t hate you.”

Frisk looks up at you in disbelief, tears already welled up in their narrow eyes.

“but i wish i never met you, kid.”

Your gaze is infinitely sad, and your words are heavy with sorrow.

“i wish you never came here.”

You turn your head, not wanting to see their face as you deal the last blow.

“and i will never forgive you.”

A few seconds of silence follows, neither of you looking at the other.

“...I know,” Frisk whispers at last. “It’s all my fault. I know I can’t ask for your forgiveness.” They swallow, hard, and for a fleeting moment, you can see the weariness in their posture. “And that’s… that’s not why I came back.”

They take a glance at the stick in their hand.

“Monsters are so different than I had imagined at first. When I fell down… I was terrified of them. After I... after I left the Ruins, I was so afraid I couldn’t think straight. I just wished I could get out as soon possible.” Their voice trails off for a moment, heavy with shame and self-blame. “I saw you as threats. I saw you only as obstacles to overcome. As numbers and statistics and – and execution points. But I was wrong. I know that now. And... you know it, too. You know monsters much better than me. You know how kind and caring and - and gentle they can be.” They take a deep breath. “And that includes you, Sans. You too are kind, and caring, and gentle, and... you are so much more than just a strong enemy to defeat.” Their voice is pleading. “You are so much more than that.”

You look into their eyes, calm and composed, feeling almost like a father talking to his child about difficult grown-up subjects that they should be too young to be exposed to.

“not anymore, frisk.”

They look back at you, hoping beyond all hope that this is still something they can fix.

“...You really think so?”

You nod.

“yes.”

Frisk lowers their head once again. You’re standing still, waiting patiently for them to process what you said. They’re just a child, after all.

“Are you so afraid that you will kill again?” they finally ask in a soft voice.

‘Kill again’, huh? You almost crack a smile at how simple that sounds, coming from them. Well, it is simple, in a way. The simplest of all.

“afraid? no, buddy. i _know_ it. i know i will kill again.”

You half expect them to say something encouraging and uncomfortably true and entirely too wise for a child of their age.

You sure as hell don’t expect to hear another voice instead.

“Look, if I can restrain myself from turning everyone in this place to dust, then so can you.”

Deep red eyes half-hidden under brown bangs, rosy cheeks and a smile that turns your soul into ice and flame. Your body immediately snaps into fight mode (no flight this time, oh no, not now, not ever), cyan magic springing into your left eye, your hand ready to send them once again where they belong –

“No! Sans, no!”

You freeze.

“Ahahahaha!”

_...Frisk?_

You shake your head and blink, confused for a moment about what’s real and what’s the product of your tormented imagination. Frisk is still here, deeply distressed, one small hand tugging at the sleeve of their shirt. And next to them, doubled over with laughter, the ghostly form of another human child is staggering, their body translucent against the backdrop of the trees, a familiar red soul glowing in their chest. They’re clearly amused by the sight of you panicking, their eyes twinkling with mirth as they look you straight in the eyesockets.

“Greetings,” they say with a sweet smile. “Long time no see, isn’t it?”

_They came back._

_Kill them._

_Kill them while you can._

“I thought I would pay you a visit since you two are clearly too incompetent to handle this yourselves,” the child goes on breezily. “I must say, I didn’t expect such a mediocre comedian to be talented at melodrama.”

When you find your voice again, it’s flat, cold.

“what the hell, kid.”

“I’m - I’m sorry!” Frisk stutters. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean this to happen!” They turn to their companion, who’s eyeing the two of you with an amused expression. “Chara, why did you do this?”

“I thought it would be funny,” they reply, shrugging their shoulders, looking at you from the corner of their eye. You narrow your sockets. “And it was!”

“You scared Sans!”

“That was my intention.”

Frisk is probably the closest you’ve ever seen them to losing their patience.

“I asked you not to come out in front of others! Especially not Sans!”

“And _I_ asked _you_ not to pick your nose,” Chara retorts, rolling their eyes. You can’t help but snort when you see Frisk wince, their face turning red as a tomato.

“I don’t! I – I mean, yes, but it’s not like – I just – um –”

You let out a sigh. “calm down, kiddo, i won’t tell a _soul_. just, uh, make sure you wash your hands afterward.”

“‘m sorry,” they mumble.

“hey, no problem. it’s just a gross habit. ‘ _snot_ like you committed mass murder,” you add, flashing a toothy grin at Chara.

They raise an eyebrow, their smirk familiar and irritating. “I doubt that you’re in a position to judge me, Sans.”

Your grin widens menacingly.

“a _pot_ -on observation, pal, though i’d say you’re still just all hat and no _kettle_.”

“Do you really think you can chase me away with your lame puns? Please. Nobody laughs at them but you. You don’t count!” they add when Frisk raises a hand in protest.

“hey, there’ _snow_ need to be grumpy. after all, it was you who decided to go on a _die_ t.”

“I thought we might as well take a different approach this time.”

“you mean after i mopped the floor with you? good to hear my friendly advice didn’t fall on _death_ ears.”

Frisk lets out a giggle at that.

“Ugh.” Chara folds their arms, looking at you with distaste. “One more joke and I’m going to tell Papyrus on you.”

“you needn’t _brother_ , pal, he can already recite all of all of my bad habits by heart.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean the puns, Sans. I meant your little LV addiction that he still has no idea about.” They lean closer, searching your face for signs of discomfort. “Given that you were too much of a spineless coward to come clean with him.”

Your grin wavers for a split second before you catch yourself. Chara immediately notices, their smile becoming as sharp as a knife.

“Hmm. Maybe I should tell him when I have the chance,” they muse out loud. “It would certainly be interesting to see his naive little soul crumble upon realizing that his brother is the biggest monster the Underground has ever seen. Don’t you agree?”

“Chara, stop,” Frisk says sternly. “This isn’t what we came back for, remember?”

“Wrong. You might have come back to repent for whatever sins you think you committed. But as for me, I’m interested in new ways we can shape this world. And good old Sans here has always been such a great partner in that.” Chara turns back to you with a sly expression. “I bet he still is.”

The memories come flooding back, dark and violent, and you try to keep your cool. You shouldn’t let Chara get a rise out of you. This is not something you want to engage in ever again. Your slip your hands in your pockets to hide their tremor, your soul fluttering restlessly in your ribcage, sensing the danger, sensing the challenge as the fallen child steps closer and looks at you with a doe-eyed expression.

“Do you want to fight?”

_YES._

“nah,” you say airily, your grin as relaxed as ever. “i’d rather frisk didn’t reset another billion times.”

“Come now,” they chuckle. “Do you really think I’m that out of practice?”

“you were never in practice, buddy.”

“Are you sure? This fresh run has made me very good at avoiding attacks. I even learned some new moves! Don’t you want to see them?”

“nope. in fact, i’d rather poke my eyes out with that stick than to watch you muddle around. wait. nothing to poke out.” You shrug. “guess i’m just struck with bad luck, here.”

“What a shame,” the child says in a sing-song voice as they walk away, their feet leaving no impact in the snow. “It would have been a novel experience for both of us.” They turn back to give you a knowing smile. “Also – you’re a surprisingly poor liar, given your expertise in the field.”

You hate how they can practically read your thoughts by now.

You absolutely love it.

They are your greatest enemy. The only one who’s worthy of you.

The only one you really, truly want to play with.

The others? Good for some EXP, sure, good for giving you the satisfaction of finally reaching a new LV, increasing your magic, making you stronger. That’s always nice. But this? This wins by a long shot. And they are right. It would be interesting to see how everything has changed now that both of you are back to square zero. What would it feel like to –

You stop yourself before going down this lane again. You’re not here to play games anymore. It would just delay the end you’re longing for.

“Okay.” Frisk steps between you, their voice strained with forced calmness. “Now that we all agreed that we’re not going to fight –”

Chara whirls around when they hear the blasters fire. Faster than the eye can follow, they dart out of the way of the beams, landing on their hands and feet.

_Fuck it._

“hey, kid.”

They look up, anticipation written all over their face.

“do you wanna have a mad time?”

They laugh then, a sound bright and beautiful and crystal clear, the voice of a child whose LOVE has destroyed you all, and your grin widens until it reaches the edges of your eyesockets.

_It is on._

It’s your turn first, it is always yours first, that’s something that no-one can take away from you unless you give it up willingly for the sake of the game, for the sake of something unknown and exciting. And this is exactly what you’re expecting of them, to offer something different, a real challenge, something that’s new and familiar at the same time, after all, you’ve been through this hundreds if not thousands of times – beads of sweat gathering on your brow, the whoosh of projectiles tearing through the air, sharp bones and blue magic, the intoxicating smells and sounds of battle. Chara comes at you with their fists, no knife this time, then again, they didn’t have time to swipe the real knife up yet, and that makes you all the more excited since the best is yet to come. Your breath is quickening, your eyelights are burning with a fervor that has nothing to do with warmth, blue and red clashing, grappling, mingling, a cold fire that’s devouring your entire soul, and you suddenly realize, with blinding clarity, that this is it. This is what you were waiting for. Finally, you feel like yourself again. Finally, they are back, giving you back your goal, your purpose. The hardest opponent, the last LV. Power. Victory. Completion.

You’re saving the thrust of your bone attacks for later. The blasters are deadlier if the kid’s caught in their radius, but they’re generally easier for them to avoid, and you don’t want them to die in the first few rounds because seriously, where’s the fun in that? It’s not the destination but the journey, or however that one human put it, hell if you remember. You both know each other’s every move by now, and yet it’s still different every time, unpredictable and incalculable, maybe it’s your memories, maybe it’s your determination, maybe it’s because you’re broken beyond all repair by now, you don’t care either way, and they crouch down and slide in the snow and flatten themselves to the ground and spring up and jump and leap, avoiding your attacks by a hair’s breadth and coming back, always coming back, trying to land a hit on you, and you dodge, you dodge effortlessly, it’s almost like a dance, dangerous and deathly and beautiful, and _oh god, you missed this, you missed this so much._

This is so much better than battling monsters. None of them can ever come close, not even Undyne; maybe if Papyrus had gathered himself together enough to fight back, he could have posed a challenge. You should probably be disturbed by the ease the thought occurs to you, but you find you’re not bothered by it one bit. You killed them, you know it, you’re not denying it anymore. You embrace it. You revel in it. There is no hope for you anyway, so you might as well stop pretending you’re not a soulless, insane freak. No friends, no brothers, no old ladies behind doors, no loved ones, nothing, nothing, just numbers and battles and levels, just this visceral feeling of pure hatred, this twisted, white-hot joy of violence, the last remaining shred of life pulsing in the dark empty space of your ribcage.

You briefly wonder if the other humans are this much fun to battle with. If a mere child can put up such a fight, what a mighty challenge a fully grown, experienced adult would be. So much hate. So much sin. Maybe one day you will find out. Maybe one day, another, even stronger human will fall down to the Underground, their soul overflowing with determination, giving them power over all of monsterkind except you, defeating everyone except you. You’ve always been an exception, weren’t you? You’ve always been the worst of them. The best of them. You almost feel ready to carry on just to see if it could happen. Maybe that Frisk kid was onto something when they insisted on you staying alive.

As if through a thick layer of cotton, you hear them yelling something now, probably trying to make you stop, the stubborn little mule they are. They hurtle themself at you, clinging forcefully to the sleeve of your hoodie in a desperate attempt to hold you back. Without sparing them a glance, you elbow them out of the way, knocking them in the snow, but not before your bone attack goes astray from the distraction.

“Ha!” Chara yells at you triumphantly. “Are you getting tired already? Are you so unused to being first level?”

You grit your teeth and keep attacking. You know you can win. You _will_ win.

“I have never realized you were so boring.”

Boring, huh? Time to whip out the big guns, then. With one swift motion, you grab their soul with your blue magic and slam it into a fence of bones, hard.

A cry of pain, coming from somewhere behind you. Surprised and confused, you turn and see Frisk who has fallen on their knees in the snow, hunched over and wheezing harshly, their hands clutching their belly. Their face is contorted by pain, teeth clenched together, tears gathering in their eyes.

_The soul._

_Wait -_

You snap back immediately as you hear Chara leaping through the air towards you, but you’re too late. You didn’t dodge.

_I’m going to die._

Your pupils nearly go out as you recoil, bracing yourself for the death blow –

– and nothing happens.

“Boo!”

Chara’s face is hovering mere inches away from yours, but the familiar flash of pain isn’t coming. Seeing your shocked expression, the child bursts into a fit of giggles.

“My god, I can’t believe you fell for it!” They hold out an incorporeal hand, waving it playfully across your neck, and it glides through the bones harmlessly. You don’t even feel a thing. “I gave Frisk their body back, remember? Or were you so immersed in our duel that your mind just wandered straight back to the good old days?” They look proud of themself. “You must have really been getting into it.”

_I will kill you._

_I will kill you, you little piece of shit._

“Of course,” Chara continues, idly swiping a lock of hair out of their eyes, “if you truly have a death wish, you can always ask Frisk to do the favor.”

“i do have a death wish, kid.” Your voice is dangerously calm and low. “yours, to be exact.”

“Hmm. Does this mean that you gave up on suicide for now? Or do we have to – how did you put it? – reset another billion times because you can’t be bothered to think about anyone else but yourself?”

“i doubt that you’re in a position to judge me, buddy.”

“Oh, but I don’t have to do that. You’re doing this all to yourself, don’t you see? Attacking me, throwing my words right back at me in the hopes that defeating me will somehow put your soul at ease.”

“hey, we can give it another try if you want to. only this time, don’t dodge.”

“Don’t be delusional, Sans. I’m stronger than you and you know it.” Your grin twitches. “You know that I’m as determined as you are. You know that if I want to, I can kill everyone in this place and leave you to _rot_ here alone for all eter–”

“Stop it!!” Frisk stomps a foot on the ground, splattering snow everywhere. “Both of you!”

You’re startled into silence by their sudden burst of anger. Even Chara looks a little taken aback, opting to just make a face and say nothing. Frisk takes a few sharp breaths, rubbing their nose, trying to calm themself.

“Enough of the fighting… please...”

Chara folds their arms and lets out an indignant huff.

“I don’t understand what your problem is. You wanted him to stop killing himself, I made him stop killing himself. You have to admit, I’m much better at this than you ever were.”

The throbbing pain in your foot returns, making you groan inwardly. You’re feeling weak and, to be honest, a touch embarrassed. You let that loathsome little bastard get the better of you, rendering you a pawn in their petty game again. And you did it willingly, this time, enjoying every second of it. Just how low can you sink anyway?

Pretty low, apparently.

Still wincing a little from their wound, Frisk wipes the snow off their pants and turns to their companion.

“Chara, please just… um, could you please just leave us alone for a little bit?”

„And how, exactly, should I do that, pray tell? I’m bound to your body. I can’t go that far away that I won’t hear you squabbling.”

“We’ll be quiet. Please?”

“...As you wish. Just try to keep it short.”

They take a few steps back on the path and turn their back on you, making fruitless attempts at kicking up the snow. You pull Frisk a little farther away and lower your voice.

“okay, kiddo. time to come clean. what’s up with your soul there?”

“Chara let me have my body back, but not my soul,” they whisper back. “They asked for it in exchange after the first time they – we killed everyone. They said it was needed to enter into your world again.”

An unpleasant, foreboding chill starts to coil in your gut.

“so now you don’t have your own soul?” You frown, mentally going through a list of what you know about human souls. “do you have any idea what’s going to happen after you finish the run?”

“They promised me to give it back,” Frisk says lamely, clearly aware that it doesn’t sound convincing at all, and sure enough, you barely resist the urge to bury your face in your palm. Just how damn gullible is this kid?

“I know you don’t trust them, Sans. I’m have my doubts, too. But this is my only chance. I must take it.”

You close your sockets and rub your forehead. As tired as you are, as much as you don’t want it, Chara is still here. They’ve never been away. You were fooling yourself to think so. No - you’ve been lying to yourself. You’ve been too selfish to think this through properly. But the truth is that you cannot die yet. As long as that demon is still lingering here, you can’t quit.

You can’t ever quit.

You open your eyesockets and see that Frisk’s waiting for you to say something. Probably something that they would want to hear.

“alright.”

“Sans?”

“i’ll do as you asked. at least… for a while. i’m gonna see you through this. just in case, mind you,” you add when you see their face light up. “and don’t take this as a promise.”

“Thank you,” Frisk says with a smile, clearly trying to contain their relief. They sure are chipper about finally getting their way, you think bitterly.

“keep your thanks for the end, buddy.”

“Are you two quite finished?” Chara demands to know. “I want to meet Papyrus already. As forgettable he is, at least he does something else than stand around feeling sorry for himself all day.”

“Yes, you can come back now,” Frisk waves at them energetically, beckoning them to come back. “Sans is going to see us to the end.”

“Is that so?” Chara looks at you with wide, surprised eyes. “How curious. I wonder if I had something to do with it.”

_They let you get to the very end, happiness and freedom within your grasp._

“not at all, pal. after all, i promised to keep an eyesocket out for you. one for each of you.”

“Then I’m going to make sure to be on my best behavior,” the child lowers their head in fake obedience.

_And they will snatch it away from you at the last second._

“Good,” Frisk nods hastily before you can say anything. “Just don’t come out this abruptly again, okay?”

“Very well,” Chara agrees cheerfully. “About Papyrus -”

“don’t keep him waiting, buddy. go ahead and have fun,” you interrupt them before they say something they’d regret. Before you’d make them regret it. “without leaving behind a trail of dust, preferably.”

“Don’t you want to –”

“Chara!” Frisk glares at their companion. “It’s time to go.”

“As you wish.”

They wave you goodbye for now as they set out to meet your brother and his puzzles. You force yourself to stand still, following them with your pupils as their twin figures grow smaller and smaller. Right before they’d disappear at the turn of the road, Chara looks back and shoots you a bright smile, their eyes twinkling.

_You should be burning in hell._

Gritting your teeth, you slowly, measuredly reach out for the conveniently-shaped lamp and grab it. Your grip gradually tightens around the bulb, the glass smooth and cold in your palm. You hear a small, almost imperceptible crack, and sharp pricks of pain shoot through you as the glass shards scrape and bruise your phalanges, wedging themselves between the bones. Savoring the pain, your clench your fist, crushing the glass into a fine powder. It looks almost like dust.

_We’re all going to burn in hell._

“Feeling frustrated, big guy?”

You know that voice well. Way, way better than you’d like to.

Aside from Chara, he’s the very last person you want to see right now.

Reluctantly, you lower your gaze to the ground and find yourself face to face with a tiny golden flower.

“Howdy!” he chirps, smiling up at you amiably. “You look like you could use a little... help.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another CHARActer (durr hurr) decides to join the fun. The plot thickens! Or sickens, depending on who you ask.  
> As for why Sans could hurt himself so badly without dying: my headcanon is that 1 isn’t the minimum amount of damage you can get in the game (if you remember, Frisk’s HP gets down to the decimals when Asriel hits them with his last attack), so Sans could in fact inflict some damage on himself without being in danger of accidentally dusting himself. (Not to mention that otherwise, a simple paper cut would finish him and he would have to spend his life wrapped in bubble wrap like a burrito with Papyrus rolling him everywhere.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *yawns* Ah, what is this noise outside? Birds are singing? Flowers are blooming? The long, dark winter of the soul has been over for like three months, and I really, really should be making some progress with this fic? Well. Guess I have no choice, then. *whips out extra fancy MTT-brand quill set*  
> On a more serious note, I’m truly sorry about the long hiatus and the glacial pacing of the updates in general. (I originally promised this chapter for the middle of May, but I caught a nasty cold and went down faster than Mettaton NEO. I apologize for the wait, roseyanon!) I have the entire story planned out, so I promise I’ll try my best to keep things quicker from now on.  
> Huh?  
> “promises mean nothing unless you make good on them, kid.”  
> ...Shut up, Sans.

Gigantic, thorny vines grappling with you, twisting around your limbs, squeezing the air out of you, rendering you near-unable to move. A tangled, writhing mess of tentacles, talons, eyes, teeth, the six human souls pulsing deep in the abomination’s core. You were struggling to block the pellets, your left eye ablaze, purple magic burning in the darkness. In a previous timeline, you’d have blacked out by now, but the additional levels lent you strength you’d never have imagined possible.

Flowey gave you a rough shake, his mismatched eyes red with fury.

“What has gotten into you??!” he yelled in your face, the sound waves reverberating in your skull. “Have you gone completely off the rails?! If there’s someone allowed to kill everyone in this wretched place, it’s me!”

Despite your less-than-favorable situation, you couldn’t resist grinning right back at him. You couldn’t resist snickering, because wasn’t it hilarious? He had no idea, no goddamn idea. This was the best prank you’d ever pulled.

“looks like you got competition, little _bud_.”

“Shut your mouth, trashbag!” Flowey yelled in frustration. “You’ve become worse than me! At least you still have a soul!”

“who knows? maybe next time i manage to get rid of it. or get a few more on top. maybe the human souls, too. wanna give it a try?”

“Next time? What are you talking about??”

“oh, just the usual. the next time your pal sets out to destroy the world. with every one of us in it. you included.”

Even though the idea just came to you in the spur of the moment, you couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself for the well-timed jab. You wanted him to know. You wanted to hurt him, to see him break down and suffer. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.

The beast narrowed his eyes at you, his face scrunched up in an expression of deep disgust. Talk about hypocrisy.

“You’re lying.”

“nope.”

You must have sounded earnest, because for a moment, Flowey stopped dead in his tracks, not moving a single vine, staring into your eyesockets in disbelief. Then you felt something smash into your sternum so hard that you saw stars, and his grip tightened around your ribcage, threatening to crush your soul into dust. Not that you’d have cared one bit. It would reset soon anyway.

“You goddamn bastard!” the flower shrieked, and even through his nightmarish voice, you could hear how scared he was. “Do you think this is a joke?? Tell me the truth or I’ll make you suffer before I kill you!”

“truth is, pal,” you said through teeth gritted from the pain, “truth is, you were right after all. kill or be killed, wasn’t that your catchphrase? and the human is your best friend, or so you said. makes sense that you would hold the same lofty values.”

“ANSWER ME!!” he bellowed. “Did Chara kill me??! Did they… did they -”

“yep. three-hundred and twenty-seven times, to be exact. they always left you for last though. sentimental reasons, i guess.”

Silence fell upon you, the only sound your labored breathing. Flowey’s tentacles trembled, his vise-like grip loosening a little. He was looking at you in desperation, searching for a sign, any sign that you were just playing with him, that you would have mercy on him. For a second, a change came over his monstrous face, and he looked almost like a lost child, someone who was looking for something to hold onto in the darkness. You got that strange feeling once again that you had seen a face like this before.

It passed.

“They… they keep on doing this?” Flowey whispered, his voice thin. “They keep on killing everyone - even… even me?”

“well, not anymore. i got this cool idea to do it myself,” you shrugged as nonchalantly as you could in your position. “hey, at least i’m being productive. keeps the ennui away, y’know, while i’m waiting for the next reset. and it’s kinda interesting to see how it changes every time you decide to intervene.”

Seeing your amusement, Flowey’s eyes widened.

“Wait, what? This - this is not even the first time you’ve gone through with this?”

“hmm.” You squint, seemingly deep in thought. “let’s see. do the runs where i only took care of half of the underground count? i really need some sort of reference point, here.”

The beast blinked at you in absolute shock for a minute, while you waited for his next move. But Flowey didn’t attack. He just looked at you up and down, his mouth slowly curling into a wicked grin.

“Hee hee hee.”

His eyes were back to their usual black now, deep and cruel, his entire body shaking with laughter.

“Ahahaha! You - you have finally lost it!”

Flowey’s giggle distorted into a demented cackle, and your hand tightened into a fist in anger. They should be frightened of you, cower before you, beg for mercy. They can’t laugh at you. They can’t.

“They have driven you crazy!”

_I’ll teach you a lesson. I’ll teach you a lesson that I swear you won’t forget -_

With a rough tug, Flowey brought you closer to his face, his lopsided smile mocking your fury.

“Tell me, trashbag,” he said, still heaving with laughter, tears flowing down his face, “did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy killing your brother?”

Your left eye flared up involuntarily as you struggled in vain in his iron grip. Flowey snickered, staring right into your sockets, his voice full of sadistic joy.

“You did, didn’t you?”

_It’s not true._

_He’s lying._

_It’s not true._

_IT’S NOT TRUE -_

_Papyrus -_

**“I knew you had it in you.”**

You felt the magic crackling in your bones, wanting to break free, your hatred stronger than ever -

_Determination._

A loud rip tore through the air, and for a fraction of a second, your left hand broke free. Enough time for you to take your turn and fire a blaster right into his open jaw.

Flowey’s vines went limp around your body immediately, letting you go. You landed on the ground with a harsh thud, but you brushed it off, it was nothing, you had to finish the job. Bones shot up from the ground, cutting into Flowey’s bloated body, piercing, slashing, tearing it apart until he stopped moving, until he fell silent, his dying laughter echoing in your skull. You leapt onto the disgusting mass of dead plant matter, clawing your way to its insides, reaching for the human souls, hopeful, hungry, but before you could grab them, they crumbled into multicolor dust in front of your eyes.

You were alone once again, panting heavily from the exertion, strangely dissatisfied. You shouldn’t have felt this way. You killed the abomination. In the end, you proved to be stronger than him. Stronger than everyone.

You won.

And yet you were still unsated.

You would always remain unsated.

*

The memory vanishes, leaving only the regular Flowey behind, who’s looking up at you expectantly, his stem and leaves* barely peeking out of the snow. You don’t say a word, opting to stare back at him with empty eyesockets instead. You hope it unnerves him to the point where he just goes away. It doesn’t seem to work.

“Looks like someone got their conscience back,” the flower goes on, not being bothered by one bit. “Tough luck, isn’t it? You’re better off without it, believe me. It just makes you weak. It’s frustrating to go back to square one, isn’t it? Given your… let’s say, ‘interesting’ demeanor lately, I’m glad the grotto is still standing. Though I admit, your little meltdown back there was immensely entertaining to watch.” He stops for a second, casually brushing some snow off his petals. “Not as much fun as finally seeing you finish yourself off, but still - very satisfying.”

Happy with what must have been intended as a jab, the flower falls silent, waiting for your reaction. You idly wonder what kind of a sound he’d make if you stepped on his stem and pressed down really, really hard.

“What, no witty comeback? No ‘ _leaf_ me alone’ or anything? Gosh, you must be really out of it. Looks like all those times you dusted your unsuspecting friends took a toll on you.” He shrugs, not an easy feat without shoulders. “I know the feeling. Or should I say - the _lack_ of feeling? Now that I think of it, we’re not that different, don’t you agree? Kill or be killed.” He cocks his head to the side, an eerie smile creeping up his face. “I often wondered if you could be pushed over the edge.”

“funny you forgot to mention this the first dozen times i finished you off,” you say in a flat voice. “oh, wait. you don’t remember those. i can give you a reminder though if you’re interested.”

Flowey’s laughter is ugly and mocking.

“Oh, resorting to empty threats now? I know you’re not going to do it. Not in this run, Sans. You’re back to being a good little puppet once again, aren’t you? And you know just as well as I do that Frisk wouldn’t like it. Are you really that eager for another reset?”

You had enough of this. Disgusted with him, disgusted with yourself, disgusted with the entire world, you turn around and start to trudge through the snow toward the town, far too drained to use a shortcut.

“Leaving already?” Flowey calls after you in mock disappointment. “Don’t you want to spit a few curses at me? Or hurt me just a little bit? After all, I’m here, all weak and defenseless. I’m sure it’ll make you feel all better.”

When you don’t react, his tone takes on an impatient edge.

“At least you could ask why I took the time to seek you out despite our, say, less than stellar history together. Let me tell you, the last time you killed me was quite unpleasant, so you should be thankful that I even bother to help you. But hey, if you don’t want to put an end to this, I might as well keep the only solution to myself.”

You grit your teeth and march onward, forcing yourself to not look back.

“You prefer to just lie down and give up like the pathetic weakling you are. How sad.”

You shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t.

“You truly are an idiot.”

You stop. Closing your eyesockets, you exhale slowly and count to ten, your hands curling into fists in your pockets.

Then you turn back to glare at the slimy bastard, who’s positively beaming now, seeing your hesitation.

“Oh, now I have your attention, huh? It’s always the same. Nobody listens to little old Flowey until he comes to them with some helpful advice. Except for your dear brother, of course,” he adds with a cheeky grin. “He’s always been a fun guy to play with.”

You stay quiet, eyeing Flowey with the deepest contempt you’ve ever felt. He giggles.

“I wish I had a mirror on me to show you your face. If looks could kill!”

“what do you want?” you finally ask, your voice rough with irritation.

“Aww, no need to be so complacent, smiley face. I live to serve.”

You kick some snow in his direction, immediately regretting doing so when pain shoots through your bruised toes. Annoyed by your own stupidity, you limp closer, your grin contorted into an irate snarl.

“spit it out or fuck off. i don’t have time for your garbage.”

“On the contrary, Sans. We have nothing but time here, haven’t you noticed by now? But since you have asked so nicely, I’ll try to be concise and simple. You know - so that even your narrow little mind can get it.”

You plop down on a snow poff, shoulders hunched, and take a deep breath.

“okay. what’s the deal?”

Flowey hobbles a little closer in the snow, making sure he’s right in front of you so you couldn’t avoid looking at him even if you wanted to. Whatever. You prop your chin in your palm and stare at him with a blank expression.

“Listen carefully, trashbag, because I won’t repeat myself,” the flower begins. “The last time you killed me, you were kind enough to remind me how Chara took no mercy on me. I didn’t expect you to be even more of a petty sadist than me, but -”

You snort. Horrible memories aside, that wasn’t half bad a move on your part. It provided a modicum of amusement, at least. Flowey shoots you a dirty look and loudly clears his throat.

“ _Ahem._ As I was saying - it made me wonder. It made me think about why you remembered all of this,” he makes a circular motion with one leaf, as if he was trying to encompass every timeline, “when even I didn’t. Why you remembered the true resets, even after our very world got destroyed.”

You frown lightly, perfectly aware of the potential danger. When Flowey starts to think about certain events in earnest, it’s bad news. Seeing your suspicious expression, a wicked smile creeps onto the flower’s face.

“You’ve already figured it out, didn’t you? Or were you too busy slaughtering everyone? I know, I know. It’s hard to concentrate on more than one thing at a time when you don’t have a brain.”

“what would you know about having a brain?” you raise a bony eyebrow half-heartedly. “after all, you have the luxury of forgetting about everything. you can turn over a new _leaf_ every time, if you will.”

Flowey makes a face at the pun, but carries on.

“I know more than you think, Sans. You’re not the only one in the Underground who keeps tabs on things. You’re not the only one who knows about how determination works. I know that there’s only one way that you get to keep your memories when even I lose them.”

He leans closer, his smile widening in anticipation.

“You’re even more determined than me.”

You stay silent for a second, cursing yourself mentally that you were careless enough to reveal the truth, but careful to keep up the façade of disinterest.

“congrats, pal,” you finally say in a bored voice. “you figured out the obvious. care for a hot dog as a reward?”

“Blech! Gosh, no. Keep that garbage for yourself. Besides, seeing you finally realizing your own stupidity is a reward in itself,” he smiles cheerfully. “Poor old Sans, having to face the truth that he’s the biggest moron under Mount Ebbott. Not counting his little brother, who -”

“E n o u g h.”

You must look like you’re at the end of your rope indeed, since Flowey recoils in fear for a second before gathering himself. He gives you the stinkeye, and makes sure to put a little distance between you two before continuing.

“Ugh. Very well, you big baby. Where was I? Oh, yes. Determination. A rare resource in monsters, but not impossible to find. I have it, you have it. Even that sushi-smelling bitch has it, though not much,” he adds with mild disgust. “The mighty heroine, never giving up, wanting to save monsterkind. Too bad she’ll never succeed.”

His words make you wonder what it would feel to be like Undyne. What it would feel to know that you’re fighting for something good, for something more than yourself. To believe that there’s still hope. For a second, you’re so overcome with envy and longing that it hurts your soul. It’s been so long that you felt a connection with any of them.

So long...

“But we both know that you’re no hero, Sans.” You look up, Flowey’s voice bringing you back to reality. “We both know that your determination doesn’t come from any goodwill or love. And what remains when you have no love left?”

“what.”

**“Hate.”**

Your grin twitches. You don’t want to hear this.

“All that remains is hate,” Flowey carries on, clearly enjoying how he still managed to upset you at least a little. “Toward me. Toward Chara. Toward yourself. Toward all the others who carry on with their lives in blissful ignorance. It grows with every reset, until it drives you to kill. And in the end,” he adds in a somewhat weaker voice, his eyes darkening, ”in the end comes the emptiness.”

He inhales sharply, then turns back to you.

“You have reached that point long ago, Sans. Just like I did. And even when it all resets, everything going back to level one, this remains.” His voice is surprisingly bitter for a moment. “It is all that remains.”

“what does this have to do with anything?” you ask, too exhausted to bother masking your emotions anymore.

“Everything, dummy! The power of hate - it’s the key to everything! I know that it has made you stronger than before. I know you can destroy the SAVE points now. I saw you do it in the last run.”

“thanks a million for reminding me what i can do, buddy. if there’s anything i have a problem with, it’s my poor memory.”

Flowey doesn’t seem to be bothered by your sarcasm.

“And no SAVE point means no point of return for them. No safe haven, no milestone to go back to. Easy peasy. If they die, Chara must start again from scratch. Even if you kill them a million times, they can always go back to that cave where they fell down.” He lowers his head and lets out a deep, mournful sigh that’s way too emotional to be genuine. “And that is the root of all our problems. The true starting point. The beginning of the story. You can’t destroy that, Sans.” He shakes his head in mock pity, and you barely resist rolling your pupils at the theatrics. “You don’t have the means to do it.”

Flowey leans closer on his stem, the creepy grin returning.

“But _I_ can.”

You suddenly feel the chill of the snow permeating every inch of your bones. Your eyelights fade out, but you’re still staring at the flower, looking for any sign of insincerity, trying to find out if he’s just playing a sick prank on you, just like he did not even that long ago. He holds your gaze, unflinching, perfectly aware that the tables have turned.

When you finally manage to speak, you don’t recognize your own voice.

“...How.”

The little creeper lets out a high-pitched giggle.

“Oh, you want to know, don’t you? Too bad, Sans. I have my own secrets.” He flashes you a sunny smile, clearly satisfied that he has the upper hand for now. “Don’t fret your empty little skull over things that you cannot possibly understand. The only thing that matters is once you have destroyed the SAVE points, and I have destroyed the starting point, they won’t be able to return anymore. Problem solved!”

You narrow your eyesockets at Flowey.

“what’s the catch?”

“Well,” he says airily, “right now I’m missing something quite important to be able to do my job.”

“what?”

“It’s just one tiny thing, really.”

And with that, the thin veil of innocence drops.

**“I nEeD yOuR sOuL.”**

You can’t help but jerk back at the sudden change, your pupils shrinking into pinpricks, your breath quickening. Flowey’s eyes have turned into dark pools, deep, wild and hungry, threatening to swallow you whole, his smile contorted into a predatory sneer, revealing sharp fangs. You slide back a little, your magic humming tensely through the marrow, your left hand readied in your pocket, shaking slightly in anticipation.

The battle never comes, though. In the next moment, Flowey is back to his usual cheery self, grinning from petal to petal.

“Hee hee! Did I scare you, trashbag? I thought you were over worrying about such petty things by now.” He chuckles and raises a questioning eyebrow at you. “What good does it do anyway if you keep your soul? Trust me, you don’t need it anymore.”

It takes a few seconds for you to calm your nerves enough to reply.

“What the _fuck_ , you freak.”

“What, are you deaf? I just said it. I. Need. Your. Soul.”

You stare at him in disbelief. He can’t be serious. After all what he’s done, the last thing you’d ever do is giving yourself up to him, letting him use your power for who knows what purpose. The very last thing.

“i have a question for you, buddy,” you say breezily, your grin sharp as a knife. “namely, why the hell would i give you my soul?”

Flowey slaps his forehead with a leaf in frustration.

“Oh, for the… Don’t you understand? Should I really spell it out for you? Or draw you a flowchart? I need your determination.”

He glares at you, and for a moment, you can practically feel the aura of his own determination emanating from him.

“I must become all-powerful to defeat Chara. Separated, neither of us has what it takes to kill them forever. Heck, even the human souls weren’t enough to keep them down, though admittedly, they helped a lot.”

A brief flash of Asgore’s somber face emerges in your mind, his body pinned down by your bone attacks, his trident lashing out at the jars with the last drop of his strength, crushing the glass into a million sparkling pieces, destroying the souls inside. No matter how many times you tried, he was still faster. You never got to experience what it was like to have six human souls trapped in your own. What it was like to become god-like.

You would always remain unsated.

“In any case,” Flowey continues,” they are none of your concern. You don’t need them anymore. And perhaps neither do I. Because now - now that you’ve become even more determined than me? Now that you’re second only to Chara themself? Now we finally stand a chance against them, Sans. We can put an end to this - if you want to. We can make this stop.”

You can’t speak. You can barely even draw breath. Flowey’s words coil around your soul like vines, squeezing it, cracking the edges until it becomes nothing but a small bundle of weakly pulsating white light, helpless and scared. Scared - because you can’t believe what the flower said. You mustn’t believe it. Hope is a lie. It’s always been a lie. It just leads to madness and despair and death.

“We must work together, Sans,” Flowey reiterates, his voice surprisingly stern. “It’s the only way. Our only chance.”

You mustn’t.

“Of course, this also means that you have to live, unfortunately,” the flower shrugs lightly. “At least until we both finish the job. Then you can dust yourself to your heart’s content as far as I’m concerned.” He winks at you, tongue sticking out. “In fact, I’d be happy to assist.”

You finally regain some of your composure.

“sorry, pal. that’s a ‘no’ from me.”

“Are you sure?” he smiles. “Because I highly doubt that you are. In fact, I think you’re just about to give in. I have a plan, which is more than you can say for yourself. And it’s either my plan, or letting all of this repeat itself until the end of time. You know it will. You know Chara as well as I do. But if you help me, we can win, Sans. We can win. ”

You fall silent, weighing your options. You don’t trust Flowey at all, and he probably knows that. He’s likely to pull a trick on you in the last moment.

But if he can indeed defeat the human with your combined determination...

...why can’t _you_ do the same?

You know you’re stronger than him. You can still feel the hatred deep in your soul, giving it strength. You know you can find a way to get hold of his determination.

You must find a way.

“So what do you say, bonehead?” Flowey says, tapping a leaf in the snow impatiently. “Are you finally ready to make an effort? Or are you too much of a selfish jerk to save your friends?”

Even you are surprised at the familiar feeling of relief washing over you. You’re finally back in control again. You have a plan. You can do this.

_I’m sorry, kid._

_You were right when you said this was your second chance._

_But it’s my second chance now._

_This will be for every monster’s sake._

This time, you won’t screw up. This time, everyone will live. You will save them all.

_And then - then I can finally rest._

“what do i have to do?”

“As I said: destroy the SAVE points. All of them. Right up to the last one. Then give up your soul to me, and I’ll take care of the rest. Don't worry,” he adds with a smile, "it won't hurt a bit."

You stand up from the snow poff and look down on Flowey, your grin relaxed and your voice calm.

“if anything happens to even one single monster, you’ll make a lovely cup of tea.”

“I’m happy to see you finally came to your senses,” he declares, apparently satisfied with your answer. “I’m looking forward to our... cordial alliance.”

_And I’m gonna deal with you in time._

The flower stretches his stem, preparing to retreat into the ground.

“See you later, trashbag.”

“later, weed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I’m aware that in the game, Flowey’s sprite doesn’t have any leaves, but I found I could make him a little more expressive by adding something that can function as hands, so here they are.  
> The next chapter is going to feature everyone’s favorite goat mom! Prepare yourselves for some pie. And heartache. But mostly pie.


End file.
